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i  i 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


I 


V 


EL-KHUDS,  THE  HOLY; 


OR, 


GLIMPSES    IN   THE   ORIENT. 


BY 

WM.   MASON   TURNER,   B.  Ph.,  M.  D., 


OF    PETERSBURG,  VIRGINIA. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

JAMES    CHALLEN    &    SON, 

No.  25  South  Sixth  Street. 

1861. 


russ,  in  ili''  yeai  1  60,  by 
.!  Wll  -  CHALLEN  &  SON, 

■  in  and  for  the  Eastern  District  of 
Pennsylvania. 

■iI'ERS.  '    18HMEAD,    PRIMES. 


TQS% 


TO 


COL.    JNO.    R.    CHAMBLISS,    SR., 

OF    EASTERN    VIRGINIA, 

AS  A  FEEBLE  TOKEN  OF  HIGH  ESTEEM, 


Cjjis  Mumt 


IS  MOST  CORDIALLY  DEDICATED, 


BY   HIS   FRIEND, 


THE   AUTHOR. 


r>  *~> 


PREFACE. 


INE  more  book  of  travels  is  thrust  upon  the  reading 
world !      Thanks  to  the  publishers,  however,  this 
can  appear  in  a  seemly  garb — a  garb  which  many, 
I  have  no  doubt,  will  prefer  to  the  skeleton  which 
it  so  richly  bedecks.     However,  be  that  as  it  may!  .  .  . 

On  a  cold  winter  night,  not  very  long  ago,  in  the  bril- 
liant capital  of  Louis  Napoleon,  a  gay  group  of  medical 
students  had  assembled  in  a  snug  room  in  the  far-famed 
Latin  Quarter.  While  the  raw  wind  crept  through  the 
deserted  thoroughfares,  and  the  heavy  clock  in  Notre 
Dame  ticked  audibly  in  that  chamber,  and  struck  in  sono- 
rous clangings  the  passing  hours,  nought  but  song  and 
laugh  and  jest  enlivened  the.  time  of  the  students.  Moet 
and  Burgundy  flowed  freely,  and  under  their  elevating 
stimulus  our  spirits  arose  in  corresponding  ratio.  It  was 
a  separation  night ;  on  it,  three  of  this  band  of  students, 

(5) 


PR]  l    LCI 

lU:i\  firom  republican   America,  were  to  say  good- 

to  their  good-hearted  confreres.    The  morrow's  Bunsei 

would  see  them  in  "Belgium's  Capital."     I  formed  one 

of  that  hand,  and  one  of  t  he  mTtk  . 

bid  so,  when  two  months  have  rolled  round,  and  you 
have  finished  the  Continent,  I  suppose  1  ma\  expect  you 
In  in  old  La  Charite,  following  Velpeau  once  more," 
a  friend  to  me. 

So,   not    so  soon,"   T   answered.     "After  journeying 
:  Germany,  Prussia,  and  the  Continent   in  general,  I 
expect,  God  willing,  to  sail   from   Naples,  via  Malta,  for 
T>  rra  Santa." 

"The  deuce  you  do!"   replied  my  friend.    "And  now 
I  wish  all  the  more  that  /could  be  along.     But  will  you 
30  kind   as   to   think  of  poor  me  occasionally — of  my 
continual  tram])  to  the  Midi  and  the  Hotel  Dieu — and 
when  3  mything  which  interests  you  particularly, 

jot  it  down  and  bring  it  to  me  ?" 

This  request  at  once  suggested  something  higher.  I  will 
keep  a  Journal,  I  said  to  myself.  "Yes,  Charles,  I  will 
do  as  you  wish,"  I  replied  to  my  friend. 

The  race  of  this  work  is  that  Journal,  beginning, 

after  finishing  up    Europe,  at    Naples,  or  rather  on  the 

Mediterranean,  between  Naples  and  Messina.     Studiously 

oily,    I    kept    my  Journal.     Days,  weeks,   and 

month-  rolled  hy.  and  yet  my  Journal  was  never  neglected. 

night,  wherever  I  was — on  field,  mountain,  or  plain 


PREFACE.  Vll 

— on  rail,  on  sea,  or  on  horseback,  my  pencil  always  scrib- 
bled something  in  my  little  cahier,  which  I  purchased  of 
an  aveugle  at  the  Font  Royal,  by  the  Tuileries.  I  deem 
it  useless  to  remark,  however,  that  I  have  much  deve- 
loped this  Journal,  in  preparing  it  for  the  press.  It  was 
necessary,  and  was  consistent  with  my  original  design. 

The  work  is  intended,  without  egotism,  to  amuse,  inte- 
rest, and  instruct.  Within  its  lids  will  be  found  all  that 
is  necessary  for  the  tourist  of  pleasure,  the  pilgrim  to  the 
shrines,  and  the  curious  traveller.  Much  attention  has 
been  paid  to  passports,  moneys,  rates  of  exchange,  climate, 
&c. ;  and  the  Author  would  here  gratefully  express  his 
warmest  obligations  to  Dr.  Porter,  the  learned  author  of 
"  Five  Years  in  Damascus ;"  and  to  the  elegant  writer, 
Mr.  Stanley,  for  many  useful  facts  gleaned  from  their 
respective  works — facts  which  the  Author's  limited  expe- 
rience did  not  call  for.  Wherever  these  writers  have 
been  quoted,  they  are  duly  accredited. 

In  justice  to  myself  and  readers,  I  would  say  that  the 
stories  interspersed  through  the  work  are  original — with 
myself  only.  The  one  related  by  S.,  at  Valetta,  has  fact 
for  basis,  but  it  is  the  only  one.  It  was  suggested  to  the 
Author,  to  interlard  dry  details  with  fiction.  This  has 
been  done  to  a  limited  extent  by  the  stories.  Of  course, 
the  references  made  by  certain  members  of  the  party  to 
the  stories  of  each  individual,  are  imaginary,  and  the  "read- 


P  R  l  P  \  i   B. 

-  Indulffence"  is  craved  for  them,  as  well  as  for  the 
w  ork  in  general. 

Ami  now  1  would  beg  Leave  to  Bay,  thai  1  was  not  im- 
portuned bj  "man}  friends"  to  publish  the  work;  in  fact, 
some  of  Baid  friends  said  it  was  unwise — ntmsermcal, 
even — to  do  so,  in  consideration  of  the  greal   number  of 

works  on  travel  now  in  print.  But  the  book  has  been 
published,  nevertheless;  and  in  so  far,  the  Author's  fancy, 
or  whim,  perhaps,  has  been  followed.  As  he  is  beholden 
to  no  man  for  the  publication,  if  the  work  turn  out  a  fail- 
ure— why,  his  l»  ih>  loss,  alone! 

Ajs  to  tin'  merits  of  the  book,  it  does  not  befit  me  to 
Bay  one  word.  There  will  be  yeas  and  nays  concerning  any 
work,  do  whatever  we  may;  it  were  indeed  impossible 
otherwise.  To  those,  therefore,  who  have  been  pleased 
with  tin-  perusal  of  my  random  thoughts,  scribbled  at  odd 
times  and  in  odd  places,  I  would  say  I  feel  myself  flattered 

heir  task  ;  to  those  who  pickout  the  faults  of  the  volume, 
1  would   say  that   I  am   sorry  it  is  so;   and  I  am  equally 

.  y  to  admit,  as  long  as  it  cannot  be  helped,  that — / 
,/,,,,' i  ,  ,i r>  .' 

Wm.  Mason  Turner. 

V  i..  An::.  24,  1*00. 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

PAGE 


Turkish    coins— Rates    of    exchange— Bakhshish—  Post-Office— Couriers- 
Paseports 


13 


CHAPTER    II. 

Custom-House— Dragomen— Changeahleness  of  climate— The  Syrian  au- 
tumn—Suitable clothing— Shoes— Learning  the  language— Means  of  loco- 
motion—Arabian  saddles— Weapons— Moral  effect  of  arms        .         .         .21 


CHAPTER    III. 

Means  of  insuring  health— Sketch  of  Palestine— Damascus— Syrian  history 
—Descendants  of  Canaan— Israelites  take  possession— Reign  of  David- 
Kingdom  of  Israel— The  wars  of  Israel— End  of  the  Israelitish  monarchy 
—Siege  of  Tyre— Alexander  spares  Jerusalem— Jerusalem  pillaged  by 
Apollonius— The  Roman  conquest— The  Mohammedan  conquest — The 
Crusades— Capture  of  Jerusalem  by  Saladin— Tamerlane— Selim  I.— 
Ibrahim  Pasha 33 


CHAPTER    IV. 

Inhabitants  of  Palestine— Arab  politeness— Fondness  for  titles— Independ- 
ence of  the  Arab— Religions  in  Syria— The  Turks— The  .Jews— The 
Christians— The  Greek  Church— The  Maronites— The  Mohammedans— 
The  Ansairiyeh— The  Druzes— Syria  and  Palestine— Sharon— The  Great 
Valley— The  Jordan— The  Orontes— The  Pharpar      .  ...     54 

(9) 


\  rABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 

C  II  A  IT  I.  R     \  . 

P  m.i: 

l'ln-    Quirinal     Sea  siokness-  The   Cala 
Hotel     '  lold  winds  -Herr 
l.  [uipmenta  for  the  East — An 
II. -ri-  Montag's  storj      Ippearanoe  of  Malta     Citta  Vec 
English  Boldiera      \  oraafa   -A  raoe 
lanufactures     Thoughts  of  home    -A  saunter  .         .     7<j 

<•  11  A  PT  i:  R  VI. 

v  n    and    reality— The  passporl    Bystem—  A   civil    policeman — An 

mi  Btroll — A  gho8l  story — Belief  in  ghosts     Mr.  Win- 

Iria  in  Bight— Sea-sickness — Discussion  in  regard  to  it — A 

:  ie  Bhip-surgeon      \  Btorj  of  Pari    life      \n  < >ri- 

-  •  inn  of  hoatmen — Dangers  to  baggage—  The  Macedonian — 

jail 103 

C  II  A  I'T  ER    V  I  I. 

'  adria — laffa  in  sigh! — Reminiscences — Landing 

"English   Hotel" — Custom-houBe  officials — The  American 

3— The  orange  groves     House  of  Simon  the  tanner — 

torj     Syrian  mail  service — An  Ame- 

Biblical  events  in  JaflFa — Massacre  at  Jaffa — Poisoning 

Plain  of  Sharon — \  decayed  tower — An  accident — A  pretty 

i;  unleh 135 

f  11  A  PTB  R    VIII. 

•   arly    an    accident — Missing   wine — 
II  man   implicated — Kirjath-jearim— Abu  Ghaush — Samuel's  birth-place 
rerusalem — Within  the  walls — The  Prussian  Hospice — 
I»r    Barclay — Piral  aighl  in  Jerusalem      .......   172 

I    II  A  I'T  K  R     1  X. 

■  w— An  adventure— Miss   Barclay     Mount  of  Olives — The 

i    ■•  Bazaars— Knights  of  St.  John 

Ichre      it  a  loss     Recollection  of  an  adventure 

meat— The  Golden  Gate — The  .Judgment- 

dom's   Pillar — Tomb  of  the   apostle 

/  I  imbofthe  Virgin  Mary — (iitrden  of  Geth- 

Bethany — Tomb  of  Lazarus — En-Rogel 

tin  of  the  Virgin — A  trial  of  speed-  -A  race  for 

ii  tht   gate     ......   185 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS.  XI 


CHAPTER    X. 

PAGE 

Church  of  the  Sepulchre— Full  description  and  history — Chapel  of  the  Ap- 
parition—Chapel of  Helena— Crown  of  thorns— The  stocks— Golgotha- 
Greek  and  Latin  Chapels— Erection  of  the  church — Destroyed  by  fire— 
The  church  rebuilt — The  holy  fire— A  good  dinner 225 


CHAPTER    XI. 

Pool  of  Hezekiah— Cheapness  of  gold— Deniss,  the  photographer— Church 
of  St.  James— Sprinkled  with  rose-water— Toothache— Bargaining  for 
curiosities — View  from  Mount  Olivet — A  keen  trader        ....  245 


CHAPTER    XII. 

Manufactory  of  ornaments— Esslinger's  story— Leave  Jerusalem — Trip  to 
Jordan— Ain-el-Haud— Wady-el- Kelt— The  brook  Cherith— Fountain  of 
Elisha — The  camping-ground — Ruins  of  Jericho— History  of  Jericho        .  258 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

Ride  in  the  Valley  of  Jordan— Lebanon — Mount  of  Temptation— Banks  of 
the  Jordan— The  Jordan— Bathing  in  the  Jordan — The  Dead  Sea— Tomb 
of  Moses— Mar  Saba— Masada— Return  to  Jerusalem        .         .         .         .281 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

Tree  of  Judas — Convent  of  Mar  Elias— Church  of  the  Nativity— Place  of  the 
Saviour's  birth— Belief  in  holy  localities— Bethlehem— Women  of  Bethle- 
hem  A  tragedy — David  and  Orpheus — Solomon's  Pools — Casa  Nuova — 

Approaching  departure — Our  plans 302_ 


CHAPTER    XV. 

Last  visits— Visit  to  Gethsemane— Photograph  of  party  in  Gethsemane— 
Montag's  second  story 318 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

Ancient  topography  of  Jerusalem— Hill  of  Evil  Counsel — Bezetha— Mount 
of  Olives— Mount  Moriah— Ophel— Akra— Zion— The  Tyropseon— The 
brook  Kidron — Hinnom •   33Z 


II     OF    CON  TEN  TS. 

0  ii  a  P  i •  i:  i;    \  \  i  i. 

f  161 

i  pod's  Palaoe    The  Beoond  wall     The 
\  iti       Modern  walla     Modern 

ii    torj  of  Jerusalem     ....  867 

•  ii  a  pt  i:  i:    XVIII. 

item  continui  I     Eteli                       D    oussion  of  an  import- 
rhe  holy  fire— The  Temple 

(  ii  a  pt  i:  i;   x  i  x. 

mlum— Tombs  of  the  Prophets— Tombs  of  the 
of  the  Judges— Grotto  of  Jeremiah— Via  Dolorosa— The 
............  403 

CHAPTER    XX. 

Journal   continued  -Departure   from    Jerusalem — Parting  with   Montag — 

;  imleh — Jaffa  again — On  board — Mar  Elias  and    Mt.   Carmel — 

,i  —  Balls  in  Beirut  —  Sail  for  Alexandria — On  the  Mediterranean — At 

i — Africa  in  sigh! — A  dilemma — India   Family  lintel — Swarms 

rild  fowl  in  the  Nile  valley — Arrival  at  Cairo — Donkey  riding — Sight- 

-Heliopolis — A  weary  day — Leave  Cairo — Rival  boat  com- 

\  battle— On  board  the  Laconia 419 

GHi  PT  E  R    XXI. 

in— Different   paths — A  stormy  passage — Arrive 

3tromboli  by  night — Off  Naples — -A  ride  in 

\  parting  meal — Civita  Vecchia— Memories  of  Leghorn — An  in- 

Ma  -A  troublesome  official  —  Flattering  remarks — 

\    rude    Frenchman — Journey  to    Paris — Arrival   at 

0  I  friende     F  irewell        ......  445 


EL-KHUDS,    THE    HOLY. 


CHAPTER  I. 


JO  no  coin  in  the  world,"  as  an  able  writer  happily 
remarks,  "  can  the  appellation  of  filthy  lucre  be 

fp  more  aptly  applied  than  to  that  of  Turkey."  Of 
all  the  wretched  and  base-looking  metallic  curren- 
cies manufactured  from  precious  or  base  metals,  we  cer- 
tainly do  see  the  most  wretched  in  that  country ;  and  I 
must  say  the  writer  aforesaid  told  simply  the  plain,  unvar- 
nished truth.  Yet  he  does  so  in  a  manner  far  too  mild  to 
express  the  miserable,  dirty  coins  which  act  as  the  cir- 
culating medium  throughout  Palestine,  Syria,  and  the 
Levant  in  general.  Such  as  it  is,  however,  and  intended 
for  such  creatures,  perhaps  it  is  but  in  accordance  with 
their  natures,  and  is  as  fitted  for  them  as  the  napoleon 
is  for  the  French,  the  sovereign  for  the  English,  or  the 
eagle  for  us  of  America.  I  have  travelled  in  most  of 
the  Continental  countries  of  Europe,  and  have  been  per- 
plexed over  and  often  with  the  currency,  respective  va- 
lues of  moneys  and  rates  of  exchange ;  but  nowhere 
have  I  suffered  such  decided  inconvenience, — have  I 
learned  but  to  unlearn,  and  forgotten  but  to  learn  again, — 

(13) 


II   RKISB    I  I   RR1  \n. 


as  in  Syria  and  in  Egypt.  In  Turkey,  too,  fco  add  to 
other  evils  respecting  this  currency,  miserable  and  detest- 
able as  it  is,  there  is  not  hall*  enough  to  satisfy  the  de- 
mand for  it.  This,  of  course,  tends  to  aid  in  the  free 
circulation  of  the  coin  of  almost  every  other  country, 
which  indeed  is  rated  at  a  higher  value  than  Dative  cur- 
rency. 

In  one  locality  we  have  a  certain  value  on  a  certain 
piece  of  money,  and  in  a  different  section  we  have  ano- 
ther value;  of  course  this  adds  much  to  the  embarrass- 
ment of  the  tourist.  This  we  found  the  case  in  Jaffa  on 
the  coast,  and  in  Jerusalem,  only  some  thirty-seven  miles 
distant. 

At   the   former  [dace,  the  piastre  is  worth  about  three 
and  one-third  cent-;    in  Jerusalem  it  is  valued  at  four 
cents.     Learning  the  currency  should  be  a  study  prepara- 
to  a  visit  to  many  lands,  and   especially  to  the  Holy 
Land.      It  is  like  thoroughly  mastering  the  text  in  Greek 
or  <  rerman — once  learned,  much  labor  is  saved,  and  in  our 
present  case,  many  shillings  retained,  which  would  other- 
form  a  continual  bakhshish,  or  tribute  of  ignorance. 
1  would  strongly  recommend,  then,  any  who  anticipate 
»ur  to  these  far-off  sacred  regions,  to  study  and  master 
the  currency  and  rates  of  exchange;  in  fact  to  pay  more 
attention  to  it,  than,  as  many  do,  to  providing  especial 
clothing,  and  laying  in  often  a   stock  of  medicines,  both 
of  which,  unless  riiditly  -elected,  are  -ood  for  naught,  and 
er  "nK  one  purpose — to  encumber. 
The  most   commonly  in  circulation,  and  to  the 

valuable   uses  of  which   a  traveller  has  much  reason  to 


TURKISH     CURRENCY.  15 


testify, — especially  in  regions  where  bakhshish  is  in  much 
demand — and  that  part  of  Syria  in  which  such  is  not  the 
case  remains  yet  to  be  discovered  by  some  geographer — 
are  the  piastre  and  the  para,  or  the  ghersh  and  the  nusaryeh 
in  Arabic.  The  former  is  valued  at  two-pence  sterling, 
or  at  about  four  cents  American  money  ;  the  latter  at  one- 
fortieth  of  a  piastre,  and,  by-the-by,  the  most  insignifi- 
cant and  filthy  of  these  filthy  coins.  I  saw  while  in  Syria 
only  one  native  coin  of  gold ;  that  was  a  piece  worth 
nearly  twenty-three  piastres,  and  denominated  a  ghdzeh. 
The  most  useful  coin  of  the  country,  however,  is  the 
kmnary,  worth  about  a  penny  sterling ;  it  is  most  needed 
in  case  of  bakhshish  (a  great  item  in  the  East),  and  though 
small  goes  a  long  way.  As  a  convenient  coin,  however, 
of  some  size  and  value  and  surety  of  passing,  I  think, 
without  any  doubt,  the  napoleon  of  the  French  should  be 
chosen.  According  to  my  observation  and  experience,  it 
is  more  freely  circulated  than  the  sovereign,  or  the  Russian 
ruble. 

When  I  drew  on  my  bankers,  Bergheim  &  Co.,  in  Jeru- 
salem, I  was  paid  in  francs,  and  did  not  pay  a  discount 
at  all,  owing  of  course  to  the  value  of  my  letter  of  credit 
from  John  Monroe  &  Co.,  of  Paris.  Turkish  gold,  how- 
ever, it  must  be  remembered,  is  as  good  as  any,  but  it  is 
difficult  to  procure  it.  And  here  let  me  remark  in  pass- 
ing, and  for  fear  of  forgetting  it,  that  the  traveller  will 
find  it  much  to  his  advantage,  should  he  come  by  Jaffa,  to 
change  several  large  gold  pieces  into  the  change  of  the 
country,  or  even  do  it  when  he  arrives  at  Jerusalem,  if  he 
cannot  before — should  he  intend  prosecuting  his  journey 


16 


ii    RKISH    CI   i;  R  1' N  I   J 


further;  in  many,  in  fact  in  mosl  of  tin'  small  villages 
of  the  H0I3  Land,  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  gel  even 
a  aapoleon  changed  ;  ami  1  know  some  of  my  readers, 
readers,  Bhould  thej  afterwards  travel  through  this  wild 
hut  Interesting  country,  will  thank  me  for  the  above  hint. 
The  following  table  of  Turkish  and  foreign  coins  is  as 
correct  and  a-  dear  as  : 1 1 1 \  1  could  procure.  It  is  the  one 
followed  by  Dr.  Porter  in  his  admirable  hand-book  on 
Syria  and  Palestine — a  magnificent  and  most  complete 
work  recently  published. 


<  lOLD. 

Gold. 

Par, 

Plant. 

Par. 

L08 

20 

117 

20 

Half  Lira 

54 

Id 

Half  Sovereign      .     .     . 

58 

30 



22 

0 

93 

20 

BalfGhftzeh      .     .     .    . 

11 

0 

Half  Napoleon       .     .     . 

46 

30 

Silver. 

Russian  Ruble  .     .     .     . 

95 

0 

'•i 

22 

0 

Austrian  Ducat       .     .     . 

55 

30 

Half  Mejfdeh     .     .     .     . 

11 

0 

Silver. 

(Quarter  Mejideh 

5 

20 

Spanish  Dollar  .     .     .     . 

26 

0 

l'»  w  Mi  r  \i.. 

Five-Franc  Piece    .     .     . 

23 

30 

Besblik 

5 

0 

Austrian  Dollar      .     .     . 

25 

30 

1  -hlik     .     .     .     . 

2 

20 

Silver  Ruble       .     .     .     . 

19 

0 

<  i  •  j  «'•  r  -  h 

1 

0 

0 

20 

Turkish 

.•..in-. 

I 

The  above  are  foreign 

coins. 

the  Turkish  coins  are  valued  only  nominally,  as 
Been  above,  and,  as  Dr.  Porter  remarks,  their  intrinsic  valve 
■-  them  to  be  not  current  in  any  other  country;  a 
fact  u  hich  I  more  than  once  remarked. 

The  word  "  bakhshish"  has  been  already  written 
several  times,  and  perhaps  it  is  as  well  to  say  more  con- 
cerning  it  now.  and   be  done  with  it.     The  word  means 


BAKHSHISH.  17 


"  gift,"  and  it  is  the  first  we  hear  when  landing  in  Pales- 
tine or  in  Egypt — and  it  is  the  last  Arabic  dissyllable 
which  sounds  on  our  ears  as  wre  leave  the  shores  of  these 
countries.  As  we  debarked  and  climbed  upon  the  crowded 
quay  at  the  apology  for  a  custom-house  in  Jaffa,  "  Bakh- 
shish Hadji !"  was  heard  grating  on  our  tympanum  until 
we  had  beaten  a  safe  retreat  into  "  Blattner's ;"  and  the 
supplication  is  accompanied  by  such  a  gesture,  and  given 
in  such  a  voice,  that  it  seems  more  like  an  official,  exact- 
ing tribute,  than  a  mendicant  humbly  entreating — in  fact, 
it  is  essentially  the  former.  The  Arabs  regard  it  as  a 
general  tax  to  be  levied  on  every  broad-cloth  Hadji,  and 
especially  on  Milorclos,  under  which  class  they  rank  kingly 
John  Bulls  and  republican  Jonathans  alike.  In  many 
parts  of  the  Holy  Land,  especially  north  of  Jerusalem, 
and  east  of  Jordan,  they  first  ask  this  tribute,  then 
demand  it,  and  terminate  matters  by  taking  it.  An 
example  of  this,  and  a  forcible  one — speaking  loud  the 
power  which  the  Bedaween  exert — is  the  fact  that  we  are 
compelled  to  pay  an  enormous — bakhshish  they  term  it, 
but  tax  is  the  better  word — in  going  from  Jerusalem  to 
Jericho.  We  pay  for  the  privilege  of  passing  through 
this  wild  country,  in  the  desert  places  and  mountain 
gorges  of  which  are  seen  to  this  day  the  "  black  tents"  of 
the  days  of  Solomon.  Bakhshish,  then,  is  the  first  word 
in  Arabic  we  learn,  and,  if  repetition  aids  in  fixing  it  in 
the  memory,  it  is  the  last  we  forget.  Whatever  our 
scruples  are,  and  however  much  and  firmly  we  are  deter- 
mined otherwise,  we  must  give  bakhshish.  Your  drago- 
man, himself,  will  tell  you  that  this  is  all  necessary. 
2 


1  v  poS  P-OFFICE. 

1  well  remember  how  pertinaciously  I  was  followed  by 

a  little  decrepid  girl,   in  crossing  the  Plain  of  Sharon, 

with  my  party  to  Jaffa.     She  must  have  dogged 

me    for   more    than    two    mileSi     I    purposely    withheld 

bakhshish,  being  curious  to  see  to  what  extent  her  powers 

endurance  and  begging-perseverance  would  lend  her; 
and  when  I  threw  some  coins  to  her — amounting  in  all, 
perhaps,  to  four  cents — she  gathered  them  up.  and  with  a 
look  of  satisfaction — not  of  <jr<i/i/it<{r — she  leisurely  set 
out  on  her  return.  As  I  have  said  before,  it  is  well  to  go 
prepared  with  a  handful  of  kamariat,  if  for  no  other  pur- 
p  »se  than  for  gift-money. 

Before  1  finish  the  subject  of  money  I  might  suggest  that 
letters-of-credit,  or  circular  notes,  are  the  safest  and  most  re- 
liable means  for  carrying  and  procuring  funds;  as  one  issued 
in  any  of  the  large  cities  of  Europe  commands  payment  in 
.1      isalem,  in  Beirut,  and  in  many  other  towns  of  the  East. 

Tin'  Post-Office  Department  in  Syria  scarcely  deserves 
••:i  name"  a-  yet;  it  is  certain  there  are  very  many 
••/<  ."  and  a  few  "habitations;"  such  as  it  is,  how- 

p,  it  is  kept  up  pretty  regularly.  I  refer  here  particu- 
larly to  the  carrying  of  mails,  which,  in  many  cases,  is 
an  individual  enterprise — each  man  carrying  his  own  mail 
and  that  of  two  or  three  others.  Such  a  thing  as  a 
.  ralrdt  livi  ry  post-office  in  Jaffa  or  in  Jerusalem  does  not, 
1  think,  exisl — each  foreign  consul's  house  answering  as  a 
depot  for  Letters.  In  Beirut,  however,  there  is  a  regular 
post-office,  and  it  is  well  kept,  owing  no  doubt  to  influence 
id.    Couriers  perform  mail-duty  between  Damas- 

-   and    Beirut,  and  with   this   is  connected  a  carrier  to 


COURIERS PASSPORTS.  19 


Baghdad  who  crosses  the  desert.  The  trip  is  performed 
on  a  camel  in  about  ten  days.  Couriers  take  closed  bags 
also  from  the  several  consulates  in  Jerusalem  and  deliver 
them  to  the  French  or  Austrian  steamers  at  Jaffa,  and 
brine  with  them  the  return  mails.  These  couriers  are 
odd-looking,  yet  romantic  brigand-like  individuals,  in  their 
fanciful  loose-flowing  costumes,  in  which  all  the  gay  colors 
commingle.  They  are,  moreover,  a  moving  machinery 
of  war — a  walking  armory  in  fact.  Yet  their  belt  full  of 
old  pistols,  their  knives  and  their  long,  clumsy,  brass- 
banded  guns,  are  more  than  overbalanced  in  efficacious- 
ness by  a  Colt's  repeater. 

The  French  mail  line — the  Messageries  Imperiales — 
touching  at  Jaffa,  Beirut,  Tripoli,  Ladakyeh,  and  Alex- 
andretta,  is  to  be  preferred  to  the  Austrian  service  or  to 
the  English — the  latter  being  only  occasional.  The 
objections  to  the  line  of  French  steamers  consist  in  the 
changeableness  of  its  schedule.  When  I  was  in  the  Holy 
Land,  the  time  of  touching  on  the  coast  was  once  a  fort- 
night; but  there  was  no  certainty  as  to  how  long  this 
would  continue.  At  any  of  the  above-mentioned  ports, 
letters  could  be  mailed  to  any  part  of  the  world.  Postage 
to  England,  not  exceeding  1  oz.,  sixty  centimes  (twelve 
cents) — not  exceeding*?  oz.,  one  franc  twenty  centimes 
(twenty-four  cents)  ;  to  America,  about  double  the  fore- 
going rates.  To  get  letters  safely  in  Syria,  it  is  best  to 
have  them  forwarded  to  the  care  of  the  consul — to  some 
banker,  or  to  a  permanently  settled  missionary. 

In  regard  to  passports,  very  little  need  be  said.  In 
Syria,  after  you  get  there,  they  are  not  required  at  all. 


pass  po  r  rs. 

The  inhabitants  know  nol  the  use  of  thera  ;  bui  the} 
are  necessan  be/on  yoii  can  becorm  a  passenger  aboard  a 
Austrian  steamer.  This  seems  rather  foolish  in 
this  particular  instance ;  bui  the  differenl  authorities  have 
something  more  in  view  than  what  is,  apparently,  a 
needless  formality.  In  Egypt,  il  is  different.  On  land- 
in:;  at  the  quay  in  Alexandria,  our  pa-sports  were  taken 
from  us.  and  consigned  to  the  keeping  of  our  consul  there. 
We  -aw  uo  more  of  them  until  we  sailed  from  that  port 
westward. 


1 1 


CHAPTER  II. 

JIFFERENT  persons  differ  as  to  their  custom-house 
experience  in  the  Holy  Land.  Our  party  was  not 
at  all  successful  in  bribing,  and  our  troubles  and 
vexations  did  not  by  any  means  agree  with  Dr. 
Porter's  opinion  that  "  the  custom  house,  so  far  as  travel- 
lers are  concerned,  is  a  mere  name  by  which  to  introduce 
the  word  bakhshish.  All  articles  for  the  private  use  of 
travellers,  pass  free  by  treaty.  The  right  claimed  by  the 
officials  to  open  and  examine  is  thus  a  mere  form  which 
can  be  easily  avoided  by  a  small  present.  Dragomen 
generally  manage  the  affair  by  giving  Jive  piastres  to  the 
officers,  and  charging  twenty  to  their  masters."  Such, 
indeed,  was  very  far  from  being  our  good  fortune.  When 
we  landed  at  Jaffa,  although  we  offered  the  custom-house 
officials  twice  the  bribe  above  named,  yet  it  had  no  effect, 
except,  indeed,  as  it  seemed,  to  whet  their  desire  to  see 
what  our  trunks  contained.  They  most  rigidly  examined 
each  and  every  article,  and  that  with  a  scrutiny  which 
excelled  any  I  ever  saw  in  France  or  Austria.  So  I  would 
advise  all  to  submit  to  it — first,  from  principle ;  and 
secondly,  because  you  cheat  the  keen  rogues  of  gift-money. 
Those  examining  our  trunks  actually  had  the  impudence 
to   ask  for  bakhshish,   after  disturbing  our  effects  most 

(21) 


21  DRAGOMEN. 

outrageously  !      This,   ;i    German    friend    along   with    us 

quicklj  quieted,  h\  first   pointing  i<>  the  door  (it  was  at 

our  hotel),  and  then  emphatically  glancing  towards  the 

/  /, /„  hoot!     The   hint  was  taken — but    no  bakhshish 

A  dragoman  —  more  correctly  turgoman  —  the  word 
means  interpreter — is  an  artich  more  essential  to  the 
traveller  in  the  East,  than  the  courier  on  the  Continent. 
to  those  unlucky  wights  who  are  silly  enough  to  go  to 
travel  in  other  lands,  understanding  no  lingo  save  their 
own  home  vernacular.  A.  dragoman  you  must  have.  JI»' 
is  your  good  and  evil  genius;  he  is — yourself,  almost,  and 
is  mon  than  yourself,  to  all  intents.  He  talks  for  you; 
he  bargains  for  yon:  fights  for  yon;  and  renders  yon 
many  other  services — at  the  same  time  very  often,  un- 
fortunately, he  deceives  yon.  and  steals  from  you  by 
making  a  large  percentage  on  everything  bought.  The 
fact  is,  dragomen,  as  a  class,  are  faithless  and  knavish. 
Kindness  but  strengthens  this  disposition,  and  one  must 

rery careful  to  avoid  being  openly  "fleeced."  Towards 
dragomen  a  firm,  decided,  dignified,  composed,  and,  above 
all,  an  unflinching  demeanor  is  the  grand  feature  of 
conduct  to  he  aimed  at  and  adopted.  Dragomen,  like 
many  other  fellow-mortals  following  different  vocations, 
i  feel  tic  pleasures  of  laziness,  yet.  nt  the  same  time, 
like  to  "make  hay"  in  spite  of  this  laziness.  Very  often. 
when  the  traveller  wishes  to  go  to  some  interesting 
locality  which  may.  perhaps,  deviate  from  the  general 
way,  the  dragoman,  although  when  he  first  presented  his 
humble   self  to  you   for   patronage,  he  was  overflowing 


DRAGOMEN. 


with  courage— had,  like  Brown's  Yuseph,  slain  many  in 
battle,  and  wished  the  merry  pastime  of  slaying — in  spite 
of  all  this,  I  repeat,  should  the  traveller  mention  some 
place  which  he  desired  to  visit,  for  instance  Mar  Saba — 
the  journey  to  which,  from  any  point,  is  rough  and  tedious 
—the  dragoman  raises  his  hands  in  holy  horror,  and 
swears  by  Allah  and  the  venerable  beard  of  his  holy 
prophet,  that  just  a  few  days  before,  a  most  horrible 
murder  was  perpetrated  in  that  very  identical  region — 
and  advises  strongly  that  even  the  wish  to  go,  be  aban- 
doned at  once.  In  such  a  case — rely  on  it — it  is  a  sham. 
Assert  your  right— compel  the  man  to  do  his  dut}^,  or 
deduct  immediately  and  largely  from  his  wages.  This 
will  generally  produce  a  satisfactory  result.  I  do  not 
say  this  is  always  the  case — far  from  it ;  but  the  occur- 
rence is  now  so  frequent  that  what  was  an  exception,  is 
fast  becoming  a  general  rule. 

The  tourist  should  be  warned  also  to  rely  on  his  own 
reading — on  his  own  information  gathered  from  trust- 
worthy guide-books,  as  to  the  history  and  antiquities  of 
places — and  not  to  trust  to  dragomen.  Beyond  a  few 
localities  in  the  beaten  track  of  travel,  dragomen  know 
nothing,  though  they  often  endeavor  to  satisfy  your 
inquiries  by  manufacturing  some  wild  monkish  legend, 
extempore — which  they  are  unable  to  repeat  themselves. 

A  great  many  travellers  come  into  Palestine  by  the 
Short  Desert  and  Sinai.  To  these  I  would  say  it  is  far 
better  to  procure  a  guide  in  Cairo,  and  make  engage- 
ments with  him  for  the  entire  trip — the  dragoman  to 
furnish  everything,  including    animals,  food,  tents,  and 


•J  I  DRAGOMEN. 


(don't  forget  it)  bakhshish.  This  will  be  the  cheapest  in 
the  end,  and  the  tourist,  by  following  this  plan,  will  be 
saved  much  trouble  and  expense.  When  the  agreement 
is  made,  it  should  be  drawn  up  in  writing,  and  a  copy 
deposited  with  your  banker  or  consul — this  is  an  induce- 
ment to  be  faithful.  When  1  was  in  Syria,  travelling 
thus,  cost  aboul  $5.50  per  day,  for  each  person. 

Above  all  things,  do  not  submit  yourself  entirely  to  the 
nu'iv\  of  your  dragoman.  You  will  fare  all  the  worse. 
as  your  confidence  will  be  sadly  abused.  Another  cau- 
tion 1  would  give:  beware  of  the  dragoman  who  brings 
too  many  testimonials.  Remember,  they  are  easily  manu- 
factured. 1  was  besieged  in  .Malta  by  a  surly  fellow,  who 
wished  to  become  my  dragoman,  though  as  yet  a  thousand 
miles  from  Canaan.  Nay,  he  even  insisted  that  I  should 
take  him — that  he  suited  me  and  my  party  exactly;  but 
1  am  glad  to  say  1  did  not  take  him,  and  warn  all  travel- 
Ins  to  beware  of  Maltese  guides,  wherever  they  mat/  be 
found.  1  have  had  cause,  myself,  to  rue  their  guardian- 
ship. You  can  not  be  worsted  by  taking  a  dragoman  when 
yon  arrive  in  the  Holy  Land.  Jaffa,  Beirut,  and  Jerusa- 
lem -warm  with  them;  and  they  are  far  superior  to  any 
guides  who  claim  .Malta  as  their  abiding-place.  I  take 
■t  pleasure  in  recommending  a  young  native  Jew  by 
the  nam<-  of  Ibrahim  Mordecai.  Ibrahim  was  our  drago- 
man to  Jericho  and  Jordan.  A  noble-hearted  fellow  he 
is — a-  brave  as  a  lion,  and  ever  willing  to  serve  you  in 
an;,  way.  What  is  another  great  item,  he  keeps  a  most 
liberal  cuisine,  and  moreover  speak-  English  and  Italian 
well.  He  can  be  heard  of  from  Dr.  Gorham,  at  the  Ame- 
rican ( Consulate  in  Jerusalem. 


CHANGEABLENESS    OF     CLIMATE.  25 


It  is  difficult  to  say  which  season  is  the  best  for  visiting 
Syria  and  the  East;  and  any  one  who  knows  much  of  the 
climate  of  the  country  can  of  course  judge  for  himself. 
In  no  region  of  the  globe  is  the  climate  as  changeable 
as  in  the  Holy  Land;  and  places  distant  not  a  geo- 
graphical degree  from  each  other,  show  a  difference  in 
temperature  which  is  unaccountable.  The  lofty  ridges 
of  Mt.  Lebanon  and  the  distant  line  of  the  "  hill  country 
of  Judea,"  as  well  as  Jerusalem,  situated  on  an  elevation 
as  it  is,  are  decidedly  cool  and  bracing.  The  air  around 
Beirut  is  particularly  fine,  so  said,  and  on  that  account 
the  heights  "form  excellent  winter  residences  for  invalids." 
In  regions  near  Jordan  and  the  Dead  Sea,  where  there  is 
a  great  natural  depression,  and  along  the  entire  seaboard, 
the  air  is  warm,  oppressive,  and  sultry.  There  is  never 
rain  of  any  moment  in  Palestine  from  the  middle  of  April 
to  the  middle  of  September;  the  consequence  is,  that 
during  the  intervening  months  there  is  a  drought  and  a 
heat  which  parch  up  the  soil,  and  render  travelling  not 
only  uncomfortable  but  decidedly  hazardous.  The  rains 
commence  about  the  last  of  October,  and  fall  intermit- 
tingly  until  March.  In  some  regions  I  learn  there  is 
thunder  and  lightning,  as  in  the  Lebanon  neighborhood, 
but  I  never  experienced  it  in  my  sojourn  there.  While  in 
Jerusalem,  we  had  snow  as  many  as  five  times,  although 
a  reliable  author  writes  :  "  But  in  Palestine  frost  is  seldom 
seen,  and  the  cold  is  not  severe."  I  suffered  as  much, 
huddling  near  the  small  stove  in  the  Prussian  Hospice,  as 
I  ever  did  "  down  Bast"  in  America,  on  our  Atlantic  board. 

I  might  as  well  remark  here,  although  from  what  has 


nil     SYRIAN     a  i    i  I   M  N. 

already  been  said  it  has  perhaps  been  anticipated,  that 
tin-  crops  are  mature  at  different  times,  and  harvestings 
commence  at  differenl  periods  in  differenl  portions  of  the 
Hoh  Land.  Thus,  in  the  Jordan  valley  the  wheat  har- 
vest begins  tin'  firsl  of  Ma\  ;  while  in  the  ••  hill  country" 
it  commences  one    month    later;   ami   on  the    Lebanon 

range  it  is  nearly  a  month  later  still. 

From  what  has  now  been  said  relative  to  the  climate, 
the  tourist  will  see  that,  of  all  the  seasons,  spring  and 
autumn  are  left  to  hi-  'particular  choice — and  both  present 
their  respective  advantages.  1  cannot  speak  experiment- 
ally <>f  them,  but  a  favorite  author  says:  "The  autumn, 
perhaps,  is  more  uniformly  'fair'  than  the  spring;  but 
then  nature  wants  its  bloom.  The  autumn  in  Syria  is 
charming.  Nothing  can  surpass  the  balminess  of  the 
air:  and  dwellers  in  tents  may  laugh  at  the  thoughts  of 
damp.  There  is  no  danger  of  muddy  roads  or  swollen 
river-:  but  1  would  recommend  the  wayfarer  to  carry  a 
water-bottle  at  his  saddle,  for  it  is  a  thirsty  season.  Au- 
tumn has  another  charm — it  is  the  vintage  season;  and 
where  is  tic  man  who  does  not  long  to  taste  the  grapes 
of  •  Lebanon9  and  pluck  the  bunches  of  'Eshcol?" 

(Mir  party  was  there  in  the  spring,  and  I  must  say  I 
was  '/"</■'    than  i>I><is<<1  with  that    season.     It  is  true,  we 
erienced  many  changes  of  temperature;  but  on  the 
whole  in  most  pleasant,  and  one  wherein  Ave  can 

view  sacred  Palestine  in  it  most  beauteous  garb,  give  me 
-priir_r.  While  in  Jaffa,  we  plucked  ripening  oranges  from 
the  heavily-loaded  boughs;  while  crossing  the  Plain  of 
Sharon  we  were  parched  with  heat;  while  sojourning  in 


SUITABLE     CLOTHING.  '27 


Jerusalem  we  suffered  intensest  cold  ;  and  when  we  visited 
Jordan  we  endured  the  most  terrific  warmth  I  ever  expe- 
rienced. Thus  it  is.  Yet,  generally  speaking,  during 
the  spring  the  air  is  clear  and  balmy,  and  should  be  pre- 
ferred, in  my  humble  estimation,  as  the  season  for  an 
Eastern  tour. 

Something  should  be  said  about  dress,  but  I  scarcely 
know  what.  Our  party  was  not  scrupulous  in  regard  to 
it ;  yet  those  who  intend  making  a  more  prolonged  tour 
might  perhaps  be  instructed  to  some  advantage  relative 
to  this  point.  For  such  persons  we  copy  the  following 
paragraph,  assuring  them  it  comes  from  a  source  meriting 
the  fullest  confidence.  "  In  selecting  a  suitable  dress  for 
Syria,  the  mode  of  locomotion  should  be  first  considered. 
The  saddle  is  the  only  conveyance — a  comfortable  riding- 
dress  is  therefore  the  best  for  ordinary  wear.  Every 
English  gentleman  knows  that  '  tights'  of  strong  cord,  or 
close-fitting  pantaloons  of  heavy  tweed,  with  long  boots 
drawn  over  them,  enable  one  to  bear  rough  rides  with 
more  ease.  Perhaps  if  the  pants  next  the  saddle  were 
covered  with  soft  leather,  like  those  of  the  '  Horse  Guards,' 
they  would  be  still  more  comfortable  and  more  durable — 
an  important  consideration  in  a  long  tour.  The  coat 
ought  to  be  short  and  made  of  substantial  light-colored 
tweed  or  shepherd's  plaid.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  wear 
linen  or  any  other  thin  material.  The  body  is  thus 
exposed  to  the  direct  rays  of  the  sun ;  the  skin  becomes 
parched,  perspiration  is  checked,  and  fever  or  diarrhoea 
is  the  result.  Woollen  cloth  is  a  non-conductor,  and  when 
we  are  protected  by  it,  the  sun's  rays  fall  harmless.     The 


S  U I T  A  B  L 1      CLOTHING. 

best  bal  i~<  the  broad-brimmed  white  or  drab  ' felt.'  The 
crown  may  be  thicklj  padded  internally  with  cotton,  and 
five  or  >i\  folds  of  white  muslin  or  calico  may  be  advan- 
tageously wound  around  the  exterior.  Lightness  and 
protection  from  the  sun  arc  the  grand  requisites.  A  pair 
of  drab  leather  gloves  and  wire  'goggles,'  with  fronts  of 

en  glass,  will  complete  the  costume.  Many  throw 
«>\  er  the  whole  a  \\  bite  Arab  barnus  of  very  thin  material, 
and  this  affords  additional  protection  against  both  heat 
and  dust." 

From  the  above  paragraph  we  may  gain  a  full  and 
comprehensive  idea  of  all  that  is  required.  Our  party. 
however,  went  just  according  to  circumstances,  and  chiefly 
with  a  due  regard  to  the  existing  state  of  each  person's 
wardrobe — following  this  general  rule,  however, — wear 
flu  worst  wt  had.  Lei  me  say  this,  however,  as  a  warn- 
ing to  those  who  may  wish  to  become  oriental  at  once — 
beware  of  adopting  the  nativi  costume.  To  one  especially 
who  is  ignorant  of  the  language,  such  a  procedure  is 
simply  ridiculous,  and  calls  forth  quiet  laughter  from 
Mohammedan,  Turk,  and  dew.  An  Englishman,  fresh 
from  the  fogs  of  London,  or  the  fields  of  Yorkshire;  or 
an  American,  raw  in  republican  manners,  from  the  dust 
of  New  Xork,  or  from  the  plantations  of  Georgia,  appears 
in  eastern  regalia  much  about  the  same  as  the  long-eared 
animal  of  the  fable  in  the  skin  which  once  covered  the 
king  of  beasts.  Xburown  dress  is  a  safeguard  to  you,  as 
in  it  you  will  be  submitted  to  no  embarrassing  position  on 
account  of  lang  and   moreover  it  coupled  with    a 

courteous  yet  firm  demeanor,  which,  1  am  glad  to  say, 


SHOES LEARNING     THE     LANGUAGE..  29 


generally  characterizes  English  and  American  travellers, 
will  insure  you  a  respect  which  it  were  otherwise  difficult 
to  command.  A  great  many  travellers  in  the  East — but 
only  those  who  stay  there  for  a  considerable  length  of 
time — provide  themselves  with  overshoes,  to  slip  off  when 
they  enter  a  mosque  in  Egypt  or  a  church  in  Syria.  You 
never  tread  with  the  same  boots,  which  you  have  worn  in 
the  streets,  on  the  costly  carpets  of  an  Eastern  dweller ; 
for  these  carpets  the  Muslem  touches  with  his  lips  not 
less  than  three  times  a  day,  as  he  pays  his  orisons  at  the 
shrine  of  Allah.  In  going  into  the  little  chapel  which 
covers  the  so-called  tomb  of  Jesus  in  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Sepulchre,  we  are  requested  to  take  our  boots  off, 
whether  or  not  we  wear  overshoes ;  in  our  case,  however, 
we  did  not  incommode  ourselves  at  all.  We  were,  on  that 
account,  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes.  For  my  part,  I  was 
sorry  that  we  had  omitted  to  follow  this  observance  to 
the  strictest  letter.  Many  ill  feelings  are  thus  engendered 
by  foreign  travellers,  and  I  always  prefer  to  respect  and 
pay  heed  to  certain  social  and  national  habits — whereby  I 
am  sure  much  wrould  be  saved  and  nothing  lost.  We 
wished  to  carry  out  the  observance,  but  our  guide  insisted 
that  it  was  not  necessary  with  us. 

It  is  foolish,  for  one  who  simply  designs  a  tour  through 
the  country,  to  attempt  to  learn  the  language  either 
before  they  commence  the  journey  or  after  they  arrive  in 
Syria.  They  will  find  it  a  difficult  undertaking — a  few 
words  in  common  speaking  may  be  as  well  picked  up 
when  you  are  once  in  the  country  as  before.  In  any 
case,  you  are  compelled  to  get  a  dragoman,  on  whom  you 


MEANS    OF     LOCOMOTION. 

throw  the  whole  burden  of  language.  Those  who  ran 
travel  Palestine  without  a  dragoman,  can  do  the  same, 
and  with  less  inconvenience,  withoul  language.  Syriac, 
the  ancient  tongue  of  the  land,  is  now  almost  obsolete, 
being  retained  only  as  the  ecclesiastical  tongue  among 
the  Maronitea  and  Dimes,  who  dwell  amid  the  crags  of 
the  Lebanon  range. 

A  more  necessary  item,  however,  inasmuch  as  it  con- 
cerns the  traveller's  personal  comfort,  should  be  his 
manner  or  means  of  locomotion;  and  hire  the  choice  is 
not  extensive,  nor  the  selection  large.  Yon  have  at  your 
disposal — a  donkey  and  a  /t<>r*> .  A  good  donkey  is  better 
than  a  /«/</  horse;  yet,  as  an  article  for  travel,  speaking 
generally,  the  horse  is  far  preferable,  on  account  of  his 
more  dignified  gait  ami  steadiness  of  action.  The  donkey 
is  a  pleasant  <.r<li<in<i<  for  a  short  ride — as  from  Cairo  to 
the  Pyramids;  bul  lor  constant  use  and  for  rides,  day 
after  day.  a  horse,  and  a  spirited  one  at  that,  should  be 
chosen.  Ladies  may  prefer  a  donkey — but  the  pace  of 
that  animal  is  too  uncertain,  too  nervous,  to  suit  a  man. 
<)n  long  jaunts,  a  kind  of  sedan  chair  is  sometimes  made 
for  tht;  weaker  Bex,  though  I  never  saw  one  \\^^\.  A 
it  deal  has  heei]  said  in  guide-books,  and  much  stress 
laid  on  the  matter,  that  a  good  saddle — an  English  saddle 
— should    he    among    the    first    articles    -elected.     From 

what  1  had  heard  of  the  Arabian  saddle,  I  imagined  it 
a  new  form  of  Oriental  torture,  wherein  a  poor  devil 
might  Bit  and  agonize  t<>  surfeiting  —  in  fact,  a  well 
devised,  though  modernl)  invented,  addition  to  inquisi- 
torial racks.     I  must  say,  in  all  candor,  never,  in  all  my 


ARABIAN     SADDLES  —  WEAPONS.  31 


life,  was  I  more  deceived — and  never  more  rapidly  dis- 
appeared ominous  misgivings  from  any  man's  mind  than 
from  mine,  as  I  eased  gradually  down  in  my  Arab  seat 
in  Jaffa,  and — found  a  most  delightful  saddle  under  me. 
The  stirrups  can  be  lengthened  to  suit  each  particular 
rider,  without  the  trouble  of  dismounting ;  and  to  any 
one  who,  like  myself,  for  example,  has  been  accustomed 
to  all  manners — conveniences  and  inconveniences  of  horse- 
back riding  with  the  American  and  Spanish  saddles,  and 
even  bare-back — I  am  sure  the  Arab  seat  cannot  prove 
disagreeable.  On  the  whole,  I  will  say,  do  not  distress 
yourself  concerning  saddles :  the  supply — of  good  ones, 
too — is  equal  to  the  demand. 

As  many  parts  of  Syria  are  not  altogether  unfrequented 
by  banditti — or  rather,  robbers  in  the  shape  of  roving 
Bedaween,  who  take  up  their  avocation  and  drop  it  at  any 
moment — it  might  be  perhaps  highly  important  to  carry 
visible  weapons  of  defence.  In  many  cases  personal 
safety  is  dependent  on  arms,  and  throughout  Syria  their 
well-known  power  awakens  a  moral  effect  which  adds 
much  to  your  respect  and  enhances  tenfold  your  prowess. 
Do  not  pay  any  particular  attention  to  your  arms  when 
you  are  on  the  road  or  in  the  presence  of  Arabs ;  they 
may  determine  that  you  are  not  accustomed  to  them,  and 
will  surely  attempt  to  play  off  a  "  scene"  on  you,  which, 
unless  you  meet  it  promptly,  may  lead  to  something 
worse.  I  would  recommend  a  large  Colt's  revolver,  navy 
size.  It  is  a  showy  weapon,  and  in  case  of  danger  an 
ever-constant  friend.     This  pistol  is  well  known  in  Syria 


MORAL     EFFECT    OF     A  1;  M  S. 


for  its  deadly  accuracy,  but  it  La  seldom  possessed  h\  the 
nath  es. 

To  show  the  moral  effed  of  arms.  1  will  relate  an 
instance.  One  day,  while  in  Jerusalem,  I  chanced  to 
the  Place  of  Wailine,  on  the  site  of  Solomon's  Tern- 
pie.  With  my  companions,  1  was  duly  impressed  with 
the  place  and  the  hallowed  associations  its  presence 
awoke — and  wishing  a  souvenir,  1  struck  a  small  piece 
from  an  ancienl  flag-stone.  A  Jew  who  saw  the  act  rushed 
up  towards  me  very  fiercely,  and  commenced  jabbering 
something  of  which  I  was  most  blissfully  ignorant.  To 
this  1  replied  nothing;  but  when  1  saw  the  fellow  handle 
the  haft  of  his  knife  very  suspiciously — glance  at  it  signi- 
ficantly, and  then  at  me — I  understood  him  perfectly. 
Throwing  open  my  coat,  which  had  been  buttoned,  I 
showed  him  the  butt  of  a  heavy  pistol  in  my  belt,  and 
looked  as  bold  as  circumstances  would  allow.  It  was 
sufficient  ;  the  poor  fellow  started  back  as  if  in  surprise; 
and.  after  eyeing  my  pistol  for  a  moment  curiously  and 
lily,  he  made  a  profound  salaam,  and  retired. 


CHAPTER  III. 

WOULD  advise  the  traveller  journeying  through 
Syria  to  lay  in  simply  a  small  package  of  medicine. 
The  changes  in  temperature  may  produce  chills  and 
fever;  and  differences  in  air,  diet,  water,  and  heat 
of  the  sun  often  produce  a  distressing  diarrhoea.  But  the 
most  frequent  and  most  troublesome  affection  is  Eastern 
ophthalmia.  Many  writers  have  spoken  of  this,  and  many 
medical  men  have  attempted  to  explain  its  cause  particu- 
larly ;  but,  as  Desmarres  of  Paris  says,  "  like  others  of  a 
former  day,  we  are  acquainted  with  very  little  concerning 
this  disorder."  Some  nitrate  of  silver  and  sulphate  of 
zinc  should  be  taken  along  for  this  disease;  the  former  to 
be  used  in  a  solution  of  one  and  a  half  grains  to  the 
ounce  of  water — apply  to  the  globe  and  lids  of  the  eye 
three  times  a  day.  If  that  should  fail,  take  the  whites  of 
two  eggs  and  a  wineglass  of  water — stir  well  together, 
and  add  twenty  grains  of  sulphate  of  zinc  finely  powdered. 
With  this  wash  the  eye  repeatedly  throughout  the  day. 
These  remedies  will  be  found  efficacious.  Of  other  medi- 
cines, one  might  carry  sulphate  of  magnesia,  tincture  of 
catechu  or  kino,  paregoric  elixir,  and  some  powdered 
rhubarb;  these  will  be  found  sufficient.  The  diarrhoea 
may  be  treated  thus :  first,  thoroughly  cleanse  the  bowels 
3  (33) 


;  1  MEANS    OF    I  N  sr  R  i  \<;     I!  K  A  l,  Til. 

by  a  lull  dose  of  sulphate  of  magnesia  or  rhubarb,  or  both 
combined  (tablespoonful  of  former — twelve  grains  of  lat- 
ter)  ;  then  give  tincture  catechu  or  paregoric. 

I  think  Syria — or  thai  pari  of  the  Holy  Land,  1  should 
Bay,  towards  Jerusalem,  and  beyond  from  the  sea-coast — 
is  far  from  being  unhealthy;  a  stay  amid  those  craggy 
mountains,  exposed  to  the  bracing  atmosphere  of  the 
hills,  would  tend  to  strengthen  the  invalid's  frame  and 
fasten  his  hold  on  life.  While  our  party  remained  in  the 
lh»l\  Land,  we  enjoyed  the  best  of  health,  which  was 
improved  during  our  entire  sojourn.  I  am  confident  that 
the  exercise  I  underwent  in  the  East  was  the  means  of 
sat  ing  my  life.  Riding  exposed  continually  to  the  rays  of 
the  miii.  however,  which  are  generally,  and  especially  at 
midday,  overpowering,  of  course  tends  to  induce  disease. 
The  use  of  the  Turkish  bath,  too,  in  all  its  perfection,  also 
has  a  tendency  to  heighten  capillary  circulation,  and,  in- 
somuch, to  occasion  irruptions,  such  as  boils,  prickly  heat, 
&c.;  yet,  with  a  meagre  eye  to  what  is  prudent,  this  can 
all  be  avoided.  Experimentally,  I  cannot  condemn  the 
bath  :  but,  arguing  from  general  principles,  and  supported 
by  good  authority,  I  am  induced  to  believe  as  above 
stated. 

A  history  of  Syria  and  Palestine,  of  course,  it  is  beyond 
my  province  to  write.  I  do  not  feel  that  I  possess  the 
ability  to  add  anything  to  the  works  of  Josephus  or  to 
those  of  other  authors  on  the  subject.  A  short  historical 
sketch  would  not  be  amiss  here,  however,  and  I  avail 
myself  of  an  excellent  article  on  the  subject  by  the  justly 
celebrated  author  of  ;i  Five  Years  in  Damascus."   Nothing 


SKETCH     OF     PALESTINE.  35 


original  can  be  said ;  and  what  I  may  present,  or  what 
other  writers  could  add,  would  be  nothing  more  than  a 
repetition  of  facts  couched  in  different  words.  The  Bible 
is  perhaps  the  best  history  of  Syria  and  Palestine ;  Jose- 
phus  gives  us  the  best  history  of  the  Jews  and  their  wars. 
Two  verj'  fine  works,  however,  which  will  well  repay 
perusal,  can  be  consulted  by  those  who  wish  to  add  still 
more  to  their  historical  knowledge  of  the  Holy  Land — 
"  Prideaux's  Connexion  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments," 
and  "  Jahn's  Hebrew  Commonwealth."  In  studying  the 
history  of  this  favored  as  well  as  accursed  of  all  lands, 
we  will  find  an  uniqueness  not  only  as  regards  the  country 
itself — its  unparalleled  geographical  and  geological  pecu- 
liarities— but  we  also  notice  the  same  uniqueness  as 
regards  the  country  as  a  theatre  of  action.  This  land 
was  the  chosen  of  God  to  be  the  stage  whereon  all  the 
trying  scenes  of  man's  redemption  were  to  be  enacted. 
It  was  in  this  land  that  Jehovah  twice  gave  religion  unto 
a  sinning  world — first,  when  Moses  received  the  written 
tablets  amid  the  thunderings  on  Mount  Sinai — and 
secondly,  when,  the  world  was  reeking  with  sin  and 
degradation,  God  gave  his  only-begotten  Son,  a  propitiation 
for  the  errors  of  others.  It  was  here  lived  every  prophet 
who  foretold  what  afterwards  was  accomplished  through 
Jesus  Christ.  It  was  here  amid  the  hills  of  Palestine 
that  the  light  of  science  shed  its  first  glare  abroad.  It 
was  here  emanated  that  religion  at  one  time  opposing 
Assyrian  superstition  and  idolatry,  and  at  a  later  period 
Roman  voluptuousness  and  effeminacy — which  has  Chris- 
tianized mankind — which  has   spread  its  blessings  over 


36  dam  a  son  s. 

the  broad  prairies  of  America,  and  amid  the  deep  jungles 
of  Farther  India  ami  China.  Here  lived  the  purest  specir 
m< i<  of  the  man,  in  the  very  fullest  'perfection — and  here 
dwell  at  this  moment  sonic  of  the  vilest  representatives 
of  the  great  human  family.  ••The  Saviour  himself  was 
horn  in  Bethlehem,  was  brought  up  in  Nazareth,  dwelt 
in  Capernaum,  was  baptized  in  the  Jordan,  raised  Lazarus 
from  the  dead  in  Bethany,  was  crucified  in  Jerusalem,  and 
ascended  to  heaven  from  the  Mount  of  Olives."  Such  is 
this  holiest  of  Holy  Lands! — how  replete  with  interest — 
how  overwhelming  in  associations! 

History  tells  us  that  long  before  Greece  had  a  name,  or 
Koine  a  written  record,  the  Phoenicians  were  famed  in 
the  arts  and  in  commerce.  Their  mariners  sailed  over 
the  "great  sea."  and  were  the  first  sailors  who  ever  made 
the  sea-faring  life  a  calling.  They  won  for  their  small 
country  the  title  which  England  now  peacefully  enjoys — 
th<-  "queen  <>t'  the  sea."  The  former  splendors  of  Tyre 
and  Sidon,  and  the  wasteful  extravagance  of  beautiful 
Damascus,  well  attested,  in  by-gone  days,  what  Phoenicia, 
and  tin-  subjacent  region  of  Syria,  then  was.  Damascus 
ha-  '>•>,■  remained  <<  city.  Four  thousand  years  ago,  it 
was  founded  by  Aram,  a  grandson  of  Noah;  it  speedily 
grew  to  magnificence.  To-(.f(iy,  it  is  one  of  the  fairest 
Bpots  on  earth,  and  serves  as  the  connecting  link  between 
patriarchal  and  modern  times.  The  former  power  and 
gaudy  pomp  of  Jerusalem — long  before  it  fell  by  the 
warring  hand  of  Titus — with  its  many  gates  and  splendid 
edifices — among  them,  one,  the  most  glorious  and  magnifi- 
cent work  of  man's  creative  genius — Solomons  temple — 


SYRIAN     HISTORY.  37 


all  show,  more  strongly  than  pen  can  write,  what  this 
land  and  city  was.     Alas  !  what  is  Jerusalem  now  ? 

"  Reft  of  thy  sons,  amidst  thy  foes  forlorn, 
Mourn,  widowed  Queen — forgotten  Zion,  mourn  ! 
Is  this  thy  place,  sad  city — this  thy  throne — 
Where  the  wild  desert  rears  its  craggy  stone?" 

"  The  earliest  notices  of  Syrian  history  are  found  in 
the  Bible,  which  is,  at  once,  the  most  ancient  and  the 
most  authentic  of  all  histories.  The  whole  land  appears 
to  have  been  divided,  by  the  nature  of  its  first  settlement, 
into  two  sections.  The  first,  extending  from  the  plain 
of  Bashan,  to  the  heights  of  Amanus,  was  colonized  by 
the  family  of  Aram,  the  son  of  Shem,  and  called  by  his 
name,  Aram.  But,  as  the  possessions  of  this  tribe 
included  also  the  plains  of  Assyria,  on  the  east,  the 
western  division  was  named  Aram-Damesk,  '  Aram  of 
Damascus'  (2  Sam.  viii.  6).  In  every  passage  of  the  Old 
Testament  scriptures,  where  the  word  '  Syria'  appears, 
the  Hebrew  is  'Aram  :'  (See  Jud.  x.  6  ;  1  Kings  x.  29  ; 
xi.  25,  &c.) .  Damascus  was  the  first  capital  of  the  province. 
Subsequently,  the  province  was  subdivided ;  and  thus,  in 
the  days  of  David,  we  find  '  Aram-Maachah' — a  district 
around  the  fountains  of  the  Jordan,  at  the  base  of  Her- 
mon  (1  Chron.  xix.  6  ;  2  Sam.  x.  6-8)  ;  '  Aram-Zobah' — 
a  district  most  probably  extending  from  the  right  bank 
of  the  Orontes,  towards  Aleppo  and  the  Euphrates  (2 
Sam.  x.  6  ;  viii.  3-5).  Both  these,  however,  were 
included  in  '  Aram-Damesk,'  so  that,  as  Isaiah  says,  the 
'Head  of  Aram  is  Damascus'  (vii.  8).  To  this,  corres- 
ponds also  the  Syria  Damascena  of  Pliny  and  the  Roman 


38  DESCENDANTS    OF    CANAAN. 


;raphers,  Aram-Damesk  formed,  for  a  long  period,  a 
irate  kingdom,  which,  under  the  royal  line  of  Badad, 
often  waged  successful  wars  against  the  Israelites  (2 
Chron.  xxiv.).  It  was  finally  overthrown  by  the  As- 
syrians, under  Tiglath-pileser,  in  b.  c.  750  (2  Kings  xvi. 
9).  Tlic  name  *  Syria' is,  probably,  derived  from'Tsur' 
or  •  Sur"  (Tyre).  The  Greeks  first  became  acquainted 
with  that  ancient  city,  and  then  applied  its  name  some- 
what indefinitely  to  the  country . 

••  The  second  division  of  the  country,  including  Gilead, 
all  Palestine  west  of  the  .Ionian,  and  the  mountain-range 
northward  to  the  mouth  of  the  Orontes,  was  colonized 
by  the  descendants  of  Canaan,  the  son  of  Ham.  They 
never  appear  to  have  been  united  under  one  chief,  or  to 
have  acknowledged  the  pre-eminence  of  one  royal  city; 
but  were  divided  into  a  number  of  tribes  or  clans,  not 
unlike  those  of  the  Scottish  Highlands.  On  the  south, 
were  the  Anakim,  -a  people  great  and  tall'  (Deut.  ii.  10;) 
and  probably  related  to  these,  were  the  Emims  and  other 
_  jrantic  races  on  the  east  of  the  Jordan  (Id.).  The 
Amorites,  who  came  in,  or  rose  to  power,  at  a  later 
period,  conquered,  and  finally  exterminated,  these  giants. 
Besides  these,  then-  was  a  host  of  petty  tribes  scattered 
r  the  land,  from  the  Jebusites  on  the  south,  to  the 
Hamathites  and  Arvadites  on  the  north.  The  Philis- 
tine.-, also  descendants  of  Ham.  emigrated  from  Egypt  at 
a  later  period,  and  settled  in  the  plain  along  the  coast, 
on  the  Bouth-west  frontier.  The}-  were  enterprising  and 
warlike,  equally  feared  and  hated  by  the  Israelites. 
They  obtained  a  firm  hold  of  a  section  of  the  country, 


THE     CANAANITES.  39 


and  gave  to  it  a  name  which  it  retains  to  our  day — 
Palestine. 

"  Of  all  the  aboriginal  inhabitants  of  this  country,  the 
Phoenicians — or  Canaanites,  as  they  are  called  both  in 
the  Bible  (Jud.  i.  31,  32),  and  on  their  coins — were  the 
most  remarkable  alike  for  their  independence,  their 
power,  and  their  enterprise.  The  principal  part,  if  not 
the  whole,  of  this  people  were  descended  from  Sidon,  the 
oldest  son  of  Ham ;  and  the  city  of  Sidon  was  the  first 
centre  and  seat  of  their  power.  From  it  colonies  went 
out  to  Tyre  and  Arvad ;  both  small  islands,  and  thus  well 
adapted  for  commerce.  The  whole  coast,  from  Casius  to 
Carmel,  soon  became  subject  to  them ;  and  from  hence 
they  extended  their  influence  and  commerce  along  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  through  the  islands  that 
dot  its  surface.  Carthage,  the  rival  of  Rome,  was  a 
Phoenician  colony ;  and  so  also  was  Cadiz,  on  the  shores 
of  the  Atlantic.  They  had  commercial  intercourse  with 
every  kingdom  of  the  known  world.  From  every  coun- 
try they  imported  its  peculiar  products  to  be  manu- 
factured or  bartered  in  their  rich  marts.  They  visited 
Persia  and  India,  Africa  and  Russia,  Italy  and  Spain  ; 
and  a  few  hardy  adventurers  even  penetrated  to  that 
little  isle  of  clouds  and  terrors — the  far  distant  Britain. 
The  Phoenicians  and  Damascenes  long  held  between  them 
the  whole  northern  part  of  Syria.  Phoenicia  attained  its 
greatest  power  about  b.  c.  1050 ;  and  it  enjoyed  uninter- 
rupted prosperity  for  full  500  years.  It  was  at  last  forced 
to  submit  to  the  sceptre  of  Alexander  the  Great. 

"  In  the  15th  century  before  the  Christian  era  another 


l  SB  \  l  l.i  i  ES     l-  \  K  i:    POSSESSION 


tribe  or  nation  appeared  upon  the  stage  of  Syrian  history, 
and  totally  changed  the  state  of  affairs  in  Palestine.  The 
Israelites,  having  completed  their  weary  term  of  wander- 
ing through    the  wilderness   of  Sinai.  Suddenly  descended 

from  the  mountains  el'  Moab  to  the  banks  of  the  .Ionian, 
more  than  half  a  million  strong.  The  lame  of  their 
exploits  and  miraculous  deliverances  had  long  preceded 
'.hem;  and  the  Canaanites.  though  inured  to  Avar,  trembled 
at  the  thought  of  this  Heaven-led  foe.  The  Israelites 
themselves  came  on  in  confidence,  feeling  that  God  would 
assuredly  give  them  the  •  Promised  Land.'  Gilead  and 
Bashan  on  the  east  were  first  taken;  then  the  waters  of 
the  Jordan  were  miraculously  opened  for  them,  and  they 
entered  Palestine.  A  war  of  extermination  was  waged, 
and  the  people  were  soon  settled  in  their  new  possessions. 
The  •  Land  of  Promise'  extended  from  the  Arabian  plain 
to  the  'Great  Sea.'  and  from  the  Desert  of  Sinai  to  the 
'entering  in  of  Hamath'  (Num.  xxxiv. ;  Ez.  xlvii.) ;  but 
Land  of  Possession'  was  more  limited — it  was  com- 
monly  and  correctly  described  as  reaching  from  'Dan  to 
sheba'  (Jud.  xxi.)  Both  Philistines  and  the  Phceni- 
,-  remained  in  possession  of  the  maritime  regions. 
••  From  ih''  time  the  Israelites  entered  Palestine  till  the 
appointment  of  Saul,  their  first  king,  their  government 
i  pure  Theocracy.  God  was  their  leader  in  all  their 
war  of  conquest,  when  the  guilty  Canaanites  were  exter- 
minated or  expelled.  In  peace,  the  judges  were  God's 
representatives;  in  war  they  were  His  lieutenants.  Their 
appointment  was  generally  communicated  to  them  by  an 
express  message  from  heaven;  their  great  victories  were 


REIGN     OF    DAVID.  41 


gained  by  miraculous  or  superhuman  interposition ;  their 
councils  were  directed  by  visions  and  revelations  from  on 
high.  Their  enemies  felt  and  acknowledged  this;  and 
were  often  compelled  to  admit  that  the  God  of  Israel  was 
greater  than  all  the  gods.  I  would  only  allude  for  illus- 
tration and  proof  to  the  histories  of  Samson,  of  Gideon, 
of  Deborah,  and  of  Samuel  (Jud.  xvi.,  iv.,  and  v. ;  1 
Sam.  vii.) 

"  But  the  Israelites  demanded  a  king  ;  and  in  the  year 
b.  c.  1095  Saul,  a  Benjamite  of  Gibeah,  was  elected. 
After  his  melancholy  death  on  Gilboa,  David,  '  the  man 
after  God's  own  heart,'  was  called  to  the  throne.  When 
he  had  reigned  seven  years  in  Hebron,  he  captured  the 
stronghold  of  the  Jebusites  on  Mount  Sion,  and  thence- 
forth Jerusalem  became  the  seat  of  government  and  the 
capital  of  Palestine  (b.  c.  1045).  His  kingdom  being 
firmly  established,  he  turned  his  attention  to  foreign  con- 
quests. The  Philistines,  the  hereditaiy  enemies  and 
oppressors  of  his  people,  were  completely  subdued.  The 
warlike  tribes  that  dwelt  amid  the  mountains  of  Sinai 
and  Edom,  and  that  roamed  over  the  plateaus  of  Gilead 
and  Bashan,  were  made  tributary.  His  garrisons  occu- 
pied the  chief  towns  of  Syria;  and  every  prince,  from 
the  borders  of  Egypt  to  the  banks  of  the  Euphrates,  was 
forced  to  acknowledge  his  rule.  The  Phoenicians  were 
the  only  exception.  They  excelled  in  the  arts  of  peace. 
Their  merchants  and  mariners  brought  the  riches  of  the 
east  and  west  to  their  marts,  and  carried  their  manufac- 
tures to  foreign  lands.  David  was  wise  as  he  was  power- 
ful.    He  could  gain  little  by  conquering  their  maritime 


42  KINGDOM    OF    tSKAEL. 


territory  ;  but  by  entering  into  friend!}  treaties  he  could 
ire  the  most  important  advantages  to  his  own  nation. 
He  therefore  made  a  treaty  with  Hiram  king  of  Tyre; 
and  Hiram's  workmen  built  his  palace  on  Zion  (2  Sam. 
Phoenician  architects,  carpenters,  and  goldsmiths 
afterwards  erected  and  adorned  the  Temple  of  Solomon 
(1  Kings  v..  vii.).  Tyrian  seamen  navigated  the  fleets  of 
[srael  to  Spain,  Africa,  and  India  (Id.  ix.  21;  x.  11). 
The  power  and  influence  which  David  had  acquired  by 
his  arms,  Solomon  employed  for  the  acquisition  of  wealth 
and  the  advancement  of  commerce.  He  built  fleets  at 
Ezion-geber  on  the  Red  Sea.  to  establish  a  communication 
with  the  eastern  coast  of  Africa  and  the  southern  shores 
of  India  (Id.  ix.  26);  and  lie  founded  'Tadmor  in  the 
Wilderness'  to  facilitate  the  overland  traffic  with  Assyria 
and  Persia  (2  Chron.  viii.  4). 

"The  building  of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem  made  that 
city  the  religious  as  well  as  the  civil  capital  of  the  whole 
land;  but  unfortunately  the  vices  of  royalty  soon  divided 
the  kingdom.  Rehoboam,  the  son  of  Solomon,  retained 
only  two  tribes  under  his  sceptre;  while  the  remaining 
ten  elected  Jeroboam,  an  Ephraimite,  as  their  ruler.  To 
wean  the  people's  affection  from  Jerusalem,  and  to  pre- 
vent the  probability  of  reunion  on  religious  grounds,  the 
latter  -  el  up  two  'calves,'  one  at  Dan,  the  other  at 
Bethel,  as  symbols  of  Jehovah,  to  which  his  subjects 
might  resort  for  worship  (1  Kings  xii.  28,  2(.»).  These 
ibola  were  borrowed,  as  that  in  the  wilderness  had 
been,  from  the  mythology  of  Egypt;  and,  in  accordance 
with  a  custom  of  the  Bame  country,  he  united  the  ponti- 


THE    WARS    OF     ISRAEL.  43 


ficate  of  the  new  establishment  with  the  crown  ;  thus  at 
once  assuming  both  royal  and  priestly  power  (Id.  31-33, 
and  xiii.  1).  Jeroboam  fixed  upon  Shechem  (now  Nabu- 
lus)  as  the  seat  of  his  government.  After  the  murder 
of  his  son,  Baasha  the  third  king  intended  to  remove  to 
Rainah,  as  a  convenient  place  for  carrying  on  an  aggres- 
sive war  against  Judah ;  but  he  was  compelled  to  give 
up  this  plan  (Id.  xv.  17-21).  Omri,  the  fifth  from  Jero- 
boam, with  an  ambition  not  uncommon  in  the  founder  of 
a  new  dynasty,  built  Samaria,  which  was  thenceforth  the 
capital  of  the  kingdom  of  Israel  (Id.  xv.  24). 

"  The  wars  carried  on  between  Israel  and  Judah  need 
not  here  be  alluded  to;  but  I  shall  just  glance  at  those 
with  other  nations. 

"  The  great  rival  of  Israel  was  Damascus.  Mutual 
interests  at  first  united  them ;  but  jealousies  arose, 
excited  by  Judah,  which  led,  under  Hazael,  to  the  almost 
complete  subjugation  of  Israel.  But  on  the  death  of 
Hazael,  Syria  began  to  decline,  and  Israel  regained  its 
independence.  The  same  power,  however,  which  '  took 
away  the  kingdom  from  Damascus,'  proved  fatal  to 
Samaria.  It  was  captured  by  the  Assyrians  (b.  c.  721), 
and  the  people  carried  away  captive.  The  conqueror 
introduced  colonies  in  their  place  from  Babylon,  Hamath, 
and  other  cities.  The  colonists  practised  their  own 
idolatries ;  and  the  country  being  infested  with  wild 
beasts,  they  thought,  according  to  the  prevailing  idea 
among  heathen  nations,  that  their  ignorance  of  the  local 
deity  was  the  cause.  An  Israelitish  priest  was  accord- 
ingly sent  to  instruct  them  in  the  Jewish  faith,  which 


11  END    OF    THE     [SRAELITISB     HON  A  RGB  V 


they  appear  to  have,  in  a  greal  measure,  adopted  (2 
Kings  \\ii.  24-33).  Such  was  the  origin  <>(*  the  Samari- 
tans, well  known  in  the  New  Testament,  from  our  Lord's 
interview  with  the  woman  at  Jacob's  Well.  A  few 
families  of  them  still  exist  in  Nabulus. 

"The  kingdom  of  Judah  survived  that  of  Israel  133 
years;  ami  then  it,  too,  fell  before  an  eastern  monarch. 
\  buchadnezzar,  kin-  of  Babylon,  took  Jerusalem,  after 
an  eighteen  months'  siege,  sacked  and  destroyed  the  city, 
and  led  the  people  captive  to  the  hanks  of  the  Tigris. 
Zedekiah,  the   last  of  David's  royal  line,  after  losing  his 

-  at  Riblah,  was  carried  in  chains  to  Babylon  {'2 
Kings  xxv.i.  Thus  ended  the  Israelitish  monarchy,  after 
having   existed    more   than    five   hundred   years.      The 

i pie  of   Solomon   fell    with    the    city,   and  its   sacred 

jsels  were  afterwards  used  in  the  idolatrous  banquets 
of  the  conquerors.     In  the  year  B.  c.  536,  Cyrus,  having 

Mired  Babylon,  restored  the  Jews  to  liberty,  and,  in 
twenty  years  more,  the  second  temple  was  dedicated. 
From  this  time  till  Grecian  power  became  paramount  in 
Western  Asia,  Syria  and  Palestine  were  governed  by  a 
Persian  satrap,  resident  in  Damascus.  The  Jewish  high- 
priest  was  made  deputy  at  Jerusalem,  and  thus  a  large 
amount  of  liberty  was  there  enjoyed.  Phoenicia  was  the 
only  province  thai  rebelled  against  the  foreign  yoke;  but 
the  Persian  power  was  too  great  to  be  resisted  by  a  com- 
mercial  state.  The  satrap  laid  siege  toSidon;  and  the 
inhabitants,  to  avoid  falling  into  his  hands,  burned  the 
city,    their  treasures,  and   themselves   (b.  c.  350).      This 


SIEGE    OF    TYRE.  45 


was  enough  to  cause  the  other  towns  to  yield  without  a 
struggle. 

"The  battle  of  Issus  (b.  c.  333)  was  fatal  to  the  Persian 
empire,  and  brought  Western  Asia  under  the  dominion  of 
a  new  dynasty  and  new  race.  Syria,  Phoenicia,  and 
Palestine  yielded  to  Alexander  the  Great,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Tyre  and  Ascalon.  The  siege  of  the  former  city 
was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  operations  of  the  Grecian 
conqueror.  Built  on  an  island,  four  hundred  fathoms 
from  the  main  land,  encompassed  by  lofty  walls,  and 
having  a  fleet  to  provide  supplies  for  the  garrison,  it  was 
deemed  impregnable.  But  Alexander,  with  the  rubbish 
of  the  ancient  city,  which  stood  on  the  shore,  constructed 
a  causeway  to  the  island,  and,  in  seven  months,  took  the 
place  by  storm.  Alexander's  causeway  converted  the 
island  into  a  peninsula,  and  thus  it  still  remains.  Jerusa- 
lem had,  in  the  mean  time,  been  summoned  to  surrender ; 
but  the  high-priest  replied  that  he  had  sworn  fealty  to 
Darius,  and  could  not  violate  his  oath.  Alexander, 
enraged  at  the  reply,  threatened  soon  to  leave  the  city  in 
ashes.  Accordingly,  after  the  capture  of  Tyre,  he  turned 
to  Jerusalem.  But  when  he  had  reached  the  mountain 
brow  commanding  the  city  from  the  west,  he  was  met  by 
a  solemn  and  strange  procession.  The  high-priest,  arrayed 
in  his  gorgeous  pontifical  robes,  attended  by  a  throng  of 
priests,  in  the  habits  of  their  order,  and  by  a  number 
of  the  citizens  in  white,  presented  himself  to  the 
astonished  monarch.  When  he  saw  the  high-priest,  he 
immediately  advanced,  saluted  him,  and  adored  the  sacred 
name  inscribed  on  his  mitre.     This  singular  conduct  he 


Ml  \  \N  mi  i;    SPA  RES    •!  ERUSA  LEM. 


thus  explained  to  his  followers:  •!  adore  no1  the  man, 
l>ut  the  God  with  whose  priesthood  In'  is  honored.  When 
1  was  at  Dios,  in  Macedonia,  pondering  how  to  Bubdue 
Lsia,  1  Baw  this  figure  in  a  dream,  and  lie  encouraged  me 
to  advance,  ami  promised  that  In-  would  give  me  the 
Persian  empire.  I  take  this  as  an  omen,  therefore,  that 
1  have  undertaken  the  expedition  by  a  divine  command, 
I  that  1  Bhall  completely  overthrow  the  empire  of 
Persia.'  Tin'  .lews  then  received  many  important  im- 
munities. The  Samaritans  were  not  so  fortunate,  for, 
in  consequence  of  an  aci  of  cruelty,  they  were  expelled 
from  their  ancient  capital,  and  forced  to  take  refuge  in 
Shechem,  where  they  still  dwell. 

"On  the  death  of  Alexander  his  vast  empire  was  thrown 

into  confusion:   and  his  generals,   left  without  a  leader, 

desired,  each  by  himself,  to  wield  the  sceptre  of  the  con- 

queror.     After  twenty  years  of  war,  something  like  order 

was  restored,  and   four  new  kingdoms  were  established. 

With   two  of  these  only  are  we  concerned — that  of  the 

Ptolemies  in   Egypt,  to  whom   Palestine  and  Coelesyria 

e  assigned;  and  that  of  the  SeleucidaB,  who  obtained 

N    it  hern  Syria.     Seleucus,  the  first  monarch  of  the  latter 

dynasty,  founded  the  city  of  Antioch,  which  for  a  few 

centuries  supplanted  Damascus  as  capital  of  Syria.    This 

royal  line  retained  their  sovereignty  for  two  hundred  and 

lilt  rs,   and    then    fell    before   the    power  of  Rome. 

Qnder  the   mild   and   encouraging  rule  of  the  Ptolemies, 

the    inhabitants  of   Palestine  lived   for  more  than  sixty 

years.     Then,  however,  as  wars  were  waged  between  the 

-    eucidse  and   the  Ptolemies,  this  unfortunate  province 


JERUSALEM     PILLAGED    BY    APOLLONIUS.  47 


became  the  theatre  of  every  contest,  and  alternately  the 
prey  of  each  dynasty.  Near  the  close  of  the  third  cen- 
tury b.  G.  it  was  wrested  from  the  feeble  hand  of  the  infant 
king  of  Egypt  by  the  Syrian  monarch ;  and  the  change 
was  fatal  to  the  peace,  and  almost  to  the  existence  of  the 
Jewish  nation.  In  the  year  b.  c.  170  Antiochus  Epiphanes 
plundered  Jerusalem,  and  defiled  the  Temple.  Two 
years  afterwards,  when  the  Jews  had  been  driven  to 
rebellion  by  cruelty  and  murder,  he  sent  his  general 
Apollonius  to  complete  the  work  of  destruction.  He 
arrived  at  the  Holy  City ;  but  his  fearful  errand  was  not 
suspected.  He  remained  quiet  until  the  Sabbath,  on 
which  day,  it  was  known,  the  Jews  of  that  age  would 
not  fight  even  in  self-defence.  The  soldiers  were  then  let 
loose,  and  scoured  the  streets,  slaughtering  all  they  met. 
The  women  and  children  were  spared — to  be  sold  into 
slavery.  Every  street  of  the  city,  every  court  of  the 
Temple,  flowed  with  blood.  The  houses  were  pillaged, 
and  the  city  walls  laid  prostrate.  Having  strengthened 
the  fortifications  of  the  citadel  on  Zion,  Apollonius  placed 
his  garrison  there  to  hold  the  Temple  under  command. 
Neither  priest  nor  layman  was  permitted  to  approach 
the  sacred  precincts.  Then,  for  a  time,  '  the  sacrifice  and 
oblation  ceased,'  and  Jerusalem  was  left  desolate.  A 
decree  being  shortly  afterwards  promulgated  that  all 
under  the  sway  of  Antiochus  should  conform  to  Greek 
idolatry,  the  Temple  was  dedicated  to  Jupiter  Olympius, 
and  the  altar  of  God  polluted  by  sacrifices  offered  to  an 
idol. 

"  But  the  savage  cruelty  and  mad  policy  of  the  Syrian 


{^  Til  i:    BOM  A  N    0ONQ1  EST. 


monarch  at  last  roused  the  .lews  to  revenge.  The 
priestly  family  of  the  Asmoneans  headed  a  aoble  band, 
who  resolved  to  drive  from  their  country  the  murderers 
o(  their  kindred,  and  the  blasphemers  of  their  Cod,  or 
die  in  the  attempt.  For  twenty-six  years  the  contest 
continued;  and  within  that  period  Judas  Maccabaeus  and 
his  brothers  succeeded  in  establishing  the  independence 
of  their  country,  and  the  supreme  authority  of  their 
house,  after  destroying  more  than  two  hundred  thousand 
of  the  best  troops  of  Syria.  Accordingly,  with  the  year 
B.C.  L43  the  Jews  commenced  a  new  era,  which  is  used 
by  Josephus,  and  in  the  first  book  of  Maccabees.  This 
independence,  however,  must  be  considered  more  as  the 
enjoyment  of  their  own  faith  and  laws  under  a  native 
chief,  than  as  perfect  freedom  from  foreign  control.  It 
was  1 1 « » t  so  much  for  absolute  independence  as  for  liberty 
of  conscience  the  Jews  had  fought.  The  disturbed  state 
of  the  Syrian  empire,  and  the  wars  of  rival  monarchs, 
contributed  much  to  the  tranquillity  of  Judsea,  and  ena- 
bled its  warlike  princes  to  extend  their  territory.  At  the 
conclusion  of  the  reign  of  Alexander  Jannseus  the  king- 
dom of  Judaea  included  the  whole  of  Idumaea,  Gadara, 
Gaulonitis,  and  a  part  of  Ituraea;  while  on  the  north  it 
extended  to  I  'armel,  Tabor,  and  Scythopolis.  In  this 
Btate  the  Jews  remained  until  the  conquest  of  the  whole 
country  by  the  Romans,  when  they  were  made  to  pay  a 
heavy  tribute,  still,  however,  retaining  their  own  rulers. 
In  the  year  B.  c.  34  the  last  prince  of  the  Asmonean  line 
-  murdered  by  the  Roman  prefect  of  Syria,  and  Herod 
tin-  Great  made  king  of  the  Jews.     In  a.  d.  G  Judaea  was 


THE     MOHAMMEDAN     CONQUEST.  49 


placed  under  the  government  of  a  Roman  procurator ; 
but  the  Herodian  family  continued  to  exercise  royal 
authority  over  a  part  of  Central  Syria  until  the  time  of 
Agrippa,  the  last  of  the  line,  when  the  Jews  revolted 
against  Rome,  and  brought  upon  themselves  that  fearful 
war  which  ended  in  the  capture  of  their  city,  the  final 
destruction  of  their  Temple,  and  the  slaughter  of  more 
than  a  million  of  their  race.  Judaea  was  now  attached 
to  the  province  of  Syria ;  and  soon  afterwards  the  whole 
of  Syria  and  Palestine  was  placed  under  the  direct  domi- 
nion of  a  Roman  prefect,  Antioch  being  the  seat  of 
government. 

"  In  this  state,  the  country  continued  under  the  Roman 
and  Byzantine  empire,  until  its  conquest  by  the  Moham- 
medans in  A.  d.  634.  The  only  circumstances  worthy  of 
notice,  in  a  sketch  like  the  present,  which  is  chiefly 
intended  to  illustrate  the  historical  geography,  are  the 
establishment  of  Christianity  under  the  first  Constantine  ; 
and  the  temporary  conquests  of  the  Persians  under  Chos- 
roes  II.  in  the  beginning  of  the  seventh  century.  Christi- 
anity had  spread  widely  over  the  land  before  its  establish- 
ment as  the  religion  of  the  empire  ;  and  the  extent,  wealth, 
and  architectural  taste  of  the  church  subsequent  to  that 
period  may  still,  to  some  extent,  be  seen  from  the 
splendid  ruins  of  the  sacred  edifices  in  the  cities,  towns, 
and  villages  of  Syria. 

"  The    Arabs,   under    the  generals    K haled   and    Abu 

Obeidah,  first  invaded  Syria  in  633 ;  and  only  five  years 

afterwards  the  whole  country  was  conquered,  and  every 

city  in  it  garrisoned  by  their  troops.     In  sixteen  years 

4 


50  r  HE    c  i;  I  s.\  DES. 

more  Damascus  was  made  capital  of  the  Mohammedan 
empire,  which  then  extended  from  (lie  shores  <>f  the 
Atlantic  to  the  confines  of  India.  Syria  was  densely 
populated.  Her  cities  scarcelj  yielded  t<>  any  in  the 
world  in  wealth,  extent,  and  architectural  splendor. 
Antioch.  Damascus,  Palmyra,  Heliopolis,  Apamea, 
Bostra,  A.scalon,  and  Caesarea,  were  almost 
unequalled,  as  provincial  cities,  in  the  wide  extent  of  the 
Roman  empire:  but  under  the  withering  influence  of 
[slam  their  grandeur  laded,  and  their  wealth  was  eaten 
up.  Of  these,  five  are  now  completely  deserted;  two  are 
mere  villages;  Antiocli.  the  capital,  is  little  more;  and 
Damascus  alone  remains  prosperous. 

••  In  the  year  7o<>  the  dynasty  of  the  Abassides  was 
tstablished,  and  the  Khalifate  removed  first  to  Cufa  and 
then  to  Baghdad.  Henceforth  Syria  became  a  mere 
province  of  the  Mohammedan  empire.  It  remained 
Bubject  to  the  Khalifa  of  Baghdad  from  this  period  till 
the  middle  of  the  tenth  century,  when  it  was  taken  by 
the  new  rival  dynasty  of  the  Fatimites  in  Egypt. 
Toward-  the  (dose  of  the  following  century  Syria  was 
invaded  by  the  Seljukian  Turks,  and  converted  into  a 
division  of  their  empire.  The  cruelties  perpetrated  by 
the  fanatics  on  the  poor  Christian  pilgrims  that  thronged 
to  Jerusalem  roused  the  spirit  of  Western  Europe,  and 
i  Christian  nations  to  the  first  'Crusade'  against 
the  [nfidels.  In  a  short  time  the  mail-clad  barons  of 
Prance  and  England,  headed  by  Godfrey,  were  seen 
winding  through  the  valleys  and  traversing  the  plains  of 
i.     The   fierce   warriors   of  the   Crescent  could  not 


CAPTURE     OF    JERUSALEM     BY     SALADIN.  51 


withstand  the  steady  valor  of  the  '  red-cross  knights.' 
Jerusalem  was  taken  by  storm;  and  the  cruelties  the 
Mohammedans  had  perpetrated  on  the  Christians  were 
now  amply  avenged  (a.  d.  1099). 

"  When  the  slaughter  had  ceased,  and  the  Crusaders 
had  soothed  their  feelings  by  acts  of  devotion  in  the 
holiest  places  of  a  holy  city,  the  necessity  of  forming  a 
regular  government  became  apparent.  Godfrey  was  at 
once  elected  first  Christian  king  of  Jerusalem.  Bohemond 
reigned  at  Antioch;  Baldwin,  Godfrey's  brother,  at  Edessa; 
and  the  Count  of  Toulouse  at  Tripoli.  Thus  was  the 
country  parcelled  out  into  Christian  principalities,  and 
ruled  by  the  bravest  knights  of  Western  Europe.  Da- 
mascus, however,  withstood  every  assault  of  the  Crusa- 
ders ;  and  it  is  still  the  boast  of  the  proud  Moslem,  that 
its  sacred  precincts  have  never  been  polluted  by  the  feet 
of  an  infidel  ruler  since  the  day  the  soldiers  of  Moham- 
med first  entered  it. 

"  This  is  not  the  place  for  a  history  of  the  Crusaders, 
nor  even  for  a  sketch  of  the  changing  fortunes  of  the 
several  cities  and  provinces  the  Franks  held  in  this  coun- 
try. I  shall  only  add  that  they  sustained  a  severe  check 
from  Nur-ed-Din,  a  Tartar  prince,  who  seized  Damascus 
and  some  neighboring  cities.  But  his  successor,  Saladin, 
was  by  far  the  most  formidable  opponent  the  Crusaders 
ever  encountered.  After  gaining  a  decisive  victory  over 
the  Christian  army  at  Hattin,  near  Tiberias,  he  captured 
Jerusalem  (1187),  and  drove  the  Franks  out  of  almost 
every  town  and  fortress  of  Palestine.  Jerusalem  was  not 
regained  for  more  than  forty  years ;  and  even  then  it  was 


52  i  \  M  ERL  \  n  E. —  ski.i  m     I. 


only  acquired  by  treaty.  Soon  afterwards  Syria  was 
invaded  by  the  Bhepherd-soldiers  of  Tartary,  under  Hola- 
gou,  tlic  grandson  ofGengis  Khan,  and  the  whole  Christ- 
ian population  of  Jerusalem  massacred.  But  after  the 
death  of  this  chief,  Bibars,  better  known  in  Arabian  his- 
torj  as  Melek  ed-Dhaher,  brought  Syria  under  the  sceptre 
of  Egypt,  and  drove  the  Tartars  beyond  the  Euphrates. 
His  victories  were  fatal  to  tin*  declining  power  of  the 
Crusaders.  Almost  all  their  strongholds  in  Palestine 
wire  captured,  and  Antioch  itself  soon  yielded  to  his 
arm-.  The  remaining  history  of  the  Crusades  is  one  con- 
tinued tale  of  misfortunes.  At  last,  in  1291,  Acre  was 
taken  by  the  Mamluke  sultan  of  Egypt;  and  thus  termi- 
nated the  dominion  of  the  Crusaders  in  Syria. 

••  For  more  than  two  centuries  after  this  period,  Syria 
was  the  theatre  of  fierce  contests,  carried  on  between  the 
shepherd-hordes  of  Tartary  and  their  brethren,  the  Tar- 
tar-slave  .sovereigns  of  Egypt.  The  most  fearful  ravages, 
however,  were  committed  by  Timiir  (Tamerlane),  who 
invaded  the  country  in  the  year  1401.  Antioch,  Emesa, 
Ba'albek,  and  Damascus  were  soon  reduced  to  ashes,  and 
their  unfortunate  inhabitants  either  murdered  or  sold  into 
slavery. 

••In  lol".  Syria  and  Palestine  were  conquered  by  Sul- 
tan Selim  I. ;  and  from  that  time  until  our  own  day,  they 
have  formed  part  of  the  Ottoman  empire.  During  this 
period,  though  the  country  has  been  visited  by  few  strik- 
ing vicissitudes,  it  has  steadily  declined  in  power,  wealth, 
and  population.  The  greater  part  of  its  people,  oppressed 
by  foreign   ruler-,  who  take  no  interest  in  commerce  or 


IBRAHIM     PASHA.  53 


agriculture,  have  sunk  into  the  condition  of  helpless  and 
hopeless  slavery.  What  little  energy  and  spirit  remain, 
are  exhausted  in  party  feuds.  In  1832,  Ibrahim  Pasha 
conquered  the  country  for  his  father,  Mohammed  Aly. 
The  iron  rule  of  that  wonderful  man  did  much  to  break 
down  the  fanatical  spirit  which  had  for  ages  been  a  curse 
to  the  people.  In  1841,  through  the  armed  intervention 
of  England,  Syria  was  restored  to  the  Porte." 


CHAPTER  IV 

^TT  HE  present  inhabitants  of  Palestine  present  a  queer 
VJ)   specimen    of   a   race — a   mongrel    population,    in 
fact — ;l  commingling,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent, 
of  the  early  Syrians  of  the  infant  years  of  Christ- 
ianity and  the  wild  Arabs  who  came  in  invading  armies 
under  their  mighty  leaders,  the  wealthy  "Khalifa  of  the 
East."    These  latter  intermarried,  and  the  present  modern 
Inhabitant  of  Syria  bears  traces  to  this  day  of  that  amal- 
gamation.    This  intermarriage,  however,  could  not  have 
existed  to  a  great   extent,  for  the  Christian  and  the  Mo- 
hammedan  Arab  differ  scarcely  at  all  in  feature,  but  owe 
their  distinctive  mark  to  their  dress;  the  original  type  of 
the  nation  is  but   Blightly  altered,  and  is  in  all  cases  dis- 
cernible. 

In  travelling  through  Syria,  the  tourist  must  be  struck 
with  the  ease,  grace,  and  uobleness  of  manner  observable 
in  the  Arab — the  wild,  untutored  son  of  the  desert.  Go 
wherever  you  may  in  the  Holy  Land,  and  these  peculiar 
traits  of  character  yon  will  always  see;  they  are  inherent, 
and  uone  the  less  valuable  qualities.  Eowever  unlettered 
},j„  mind — however  vagrant  his  associations  and  associ- 
ates— however  barbarous  his  tribe  and  however  desolate 
or  barren  his  desert  or  his  mountain  home — the  Beddwy 

(54) 


ARAB     POLITENESS.  55 


is  ever  noble  in  bearing — ever  easy  in  the  presence  of 
others  higher  in  social  life,  and  always  assiduously  polite 
to  all  who  may  chance  to  cross  his  path.  Never  more 
was  I  struck  with  this,  than  when  our  good  Sheikh,  an 
illiterate  but  not  ill-mannered  Beddwy,  visited  us  in  Jeru- 
salem at  the  Prussian  Hospice.  We  invited  him  to  par- 
take of  breakfast  with  us,  wishing  to  see  for  curiosity's 
sake  how  he  would  behave  himself,  and  to  what  purpose 
he  would  apply  his  knife  and  fork ;  for  with  these  he  was 
not  burdened  at  home  in  his  black  goat-skin  tent.  I  made 
it  my  especial  business  to  watch  him.  He  accepted  our 
invitation,  after  a  little  urging,  in  a  most  polished  and 
courtly  manner — showing  himself,  immediately,  as  one  of 
"  Nature's  noblemen."  Before  he  seated  himself,  he  scru- 
pulously washed  his  hands;  and  having  most  devoutly 
said  his  prayers,  he  took  his  seat  with  as  much  quiet  and 
as  little  awkwardness  as  if  he  had,  for  many  years,  loitered 
in  the  palaces  of  the  rich  and  the  powerful.  I  saw  him 
regard  his  knife  and  fork  with  a  quizzical  look,  and  then 
cast  a  quiet,  quick  glance  around  the  table,  as  if  seeking 
information.  Having  satisfied  himself  how  the  inconve- 
niences were  used,  he  handled  them  with  an  ease  and  skill 
that  would  have  done  credit  to  an  experienced  caterer. 

Nothing  is  more  impressive  than  Arab  politeness,  espe- 
cially when  shown  in  their  salutations.  The  right  hand 
laid  first  on  the  heart,  then  on  the  lips,  finally  on  the 
forehead,  speaks  in  a  language  more  eloquent  than  tongue 
can  articulate — the  Language  of  Gesture.  Sometimes, 
when  high  esteem  is  felt  for  a  person,  they  press  the  lips 
to  the  hand ;  and  in  some  cases  of  extreme  reverence, 


■»l»  AK  A  B      POL]  I  1 


:n  esL 


thr\  kiss  the  feet  ks  regards  American  travellers,  or 
foreigners  generally,  it  is  besl  courteously  yet  firmly  to 
forbid  this,  giving,  for  refusing  this  testimonial  of  respect, 
the  best  reasons  of  which  you  arc  master.  The  fact  is,  they 
Beldom  expect  that  you  will  permit  this  ceremony,  though 
they  are  apparently  willing  to  show  the  extent  of  their 
esteem  by  this  significant  method.  If  the  truth  must  be 
told,  however.  Arab  politeness,  ready  and  native  as  it 
may  be,  is  made  up  of  meaningless  expressions,  just  as 
the  civilities  of  other  nations — the  French,  par  example, 
which  are  in  such  general  use  that  we  may  well  consider 
them  stereotyped.  And,  in  the  same  manner,  all  Ins  un- 
bounded offers  of  kindness  and  extravagant  manner  of 
giving  you  any  and  everything  he  has  simply  for  the  love 
>f  you,  and  not  for  money,  are  empty  protestations.  As 
an  example  :  the  Arab  merchant,  when  asked  the  price 
of  a  most  costly  article,  frequently  replies,  nothing,  if  you 
desire  it — for  others,  however,  he  would  demand  such  and 
Buch  (naming  a  most  exorbitant  price) — but  you  can  have 
it  for  love — it  is  not  the  money  that  he  requires  of  you. 
/£  wan  of  such  ae  these  j  do  not  take  these  lying  venders 
at  their  word,  or  you  will  rue  it.  One  old  fellow,  from 
whom  I  was  endeavoring  to  buy  a  narghileh,  offered  me 
nut  only  the  lmrghileh.  but  his  entire  stock  in  trade,  his 
-hop.  his  dwelling-house,  half  of  his  hareem,  all  of  his 
money,  and.  in  addition,  promised  to  be  my  slave/or  ever 
<ti,, I  ,ii/>  .'  but.  before  I  left  he  had  recanted — sold  me  the 
uarghileh — and — cheated  me  out  of  eight  francs ! 

There    are    a   certain    class  of  bigoted   old   fellows — 
Muslems — however,  who  are   not  guilty  towards  Chris- 


FONDNESS    FOR    TITLES.  57 


tians — I    mean,   now,  foreigners  from    any    country — of 
any  politeness  at  all.     The  Muslem  of  this  class  is  plain 
and  straightforward ;  he  can  not  smother  his  disgust  for 
an  "  Infidel"  or  a  "  Frank  dog,"  which  are  but  synonymes, 
in  these  far-off  lands,  for  "Christian."     Woe  be  unto  the 
unlucky  traveller  who,  priding  himself  on  his  knowledge 
of  Arabic,  scanty  or  ample,  should  say  to  one  of  these 
stiff-necked,   prejudiced   Orientals,   "  Saldma  '' 'Aleikum  /" 
(peace  be  with  you) .     A  Christian  has  no  right,  in  their 
eyes,  to  invoke  even  peace  on  one  of  the  Chosen  of  the 
Faithful — and  such  an  expression  will  call  forth  a  wrath, 
which  is  often  unappeased  with  the  tongue,  as  the  only 
weapon.     Those,  therefore,  who  wish  a  smooth  sea,  had 
better  nurture  this  hint,  and  avoid  the  offending  expres- 
sion.    It  is   well,  too,   perhaps,  to   remember  that   this 
expression  must  not  be  returned  by  a  Christian,  should  he 
chance  to  be  addressed  by  one  of  these  of  the  particular 
kind.     He  must  choose  something  more  suitable  from  his 
vocabulary,   if  he  can  command  it.     If  he  fail   here,  a 
profound  salaam — a  mumbling  of  some  words,  in  which 
"  Allah"  might  be  advantageously  distributed  more  than 
once — and   a  sanctified    revolution    of  the    eyes    in   the 
socket,  will  be  sufficient. 

Another  point  very  noticeable  in  regard  to  these 
specimens  of  mankind,  is  the  tendency  to  titles.  It 
breaks  somewhat  strangely  on  the  foreigner's  tympanum 
to  hear,  in  the  narrow  streets  of  Jerusalem,  "  Your  Ex- 
cellency"— "Your  Highness,"  (in  Arabic,  of  course)  so 
often  spoken.  Turning  around  to  behold  his  "Excel- 
lency," one's   surprise  is  often   greatly  increased  at  the 


l  \  i>i  PE  n  I'l !N  I   I      "i     T  ii  r.  Ia  i;  \  B. 


Right  of  a  sqnalid  Beddwy,  in  rags  and  tatters,  who  carries 
;m  old  long-barrelled  gun  on  his  shoulder — and  his  com- 
panion as  squalid  as  himself— being  the  representatives 
of  3  our  highnesses. 

The  traveller  Is  always  addressed  as  "  Saadatak,' 
which,  translated,  means"your  Highness."  As  1  have 
said  before,  and  it  might  as  well  be  impressed — an  Arab's 
expression  of  politeness  mean  as  much  spoken  to  you,  as 
they  do  gibbered  at  the  moon — nothing.  They  are  used 
For  the  occasion,  and  just  in  strict  accordance  to  circum- 
Btances.  They  are  forgotten  as  soon  as  uttered,  and  their 
meaning  unknown,  when  spoken.  It  is  well  the  traveller 
should  hear  this  constantly  in  mind — else  he  may  be 
guilty  of  some  gross  blunders — blunders  which  will  make 
him  repent  the  day  he  ever  saw  a  bazaar. 

There  is  one  remarkable  trait,  observable  in  the  Arab, 
and  one  which  we  must  admit  is  to  he  much  admired — 
their  fearlessness,  and  when  fully  aroused,  their  noble 
independence.  Von  cannot  force  an  Arab  to  do  your 
bidding,  by  any  menace  of  which  you  are  master — yet 
you  can  lead  these  wild  denizens  of  the  desert  with  a 
Bilken  cord.  And  it  needs  no  coaxing — it  is  as  difficult 
to  move  them  in  this  way,  as  by  threats.  A  kind, 
gentle,  yel  dignified  and  firm  demeanor,  I  repeat  again,  is 
the  all  necessary  element  for  a  correct  course  of  conduct. 
>ve  all  tilings,  if  you  would  not  rouse  the  sleeping  lires. 
of  an  Arab's  anger,  avoid  high  words  and  menacing  looks 
— hut.  while  you  are  kind  and  lenient,  never  allow  an 
undue  familiarity.  The  Arab  resembles  in  this  respect 
many  of  tic  slaves  of  the  Southern  United  States;  they 


RELIGIONS     IN     SYRIA.  59 


think  any  appearance  of  familiarity  with  them  betrays 
weakness  of  mind,  and  they  are  far  from  being  slow  at 
seizing  the  opportunity  to  impose  on  you. 

The  inhabitants  of  Syria,  all,  possess  a  religion  ;  it  is 
their  chiefest  and  oftentimes  only  inheritance  ;  regarding 
which,  they  are  generally  proud  and  fanatical.  Each 
religionist  is  known  by  some  peculiarity  in  dress — or 
rather,  more  properly  speaking,  almost  every  region  is 
represented  by  a  different  garb,  and  these  different  garbs 
generally  indicate  different  faiths.  Thus  the  wild  Beddwy 
goes  about  almost  unprotected.  He  has  simply  a  large  loose 
abba  thrown  over  his  shoulders,  while  his  head  is  covered 
with  a  flowing  cloth  called  the  hufiyeh,  which  is  bound  in 
its  place  with  a  rope  of  camel's  hair.  The  gentleman 
inhabitant  of  the  city  sports  long  flowing  robes  of  silk,  a 
snow  white  turban,  and  red  slippers ;  the  mountaineer  of 
the  Lebanon  Range  wears  stout  short  trowsers,  gathered 
just  below  the  knee,  and  a  closely  fitting  and  light  turban, 
&c,  &c. 

The  religions  of  the  land  are  various,  and  may  be  stated 
as  follow — first,  Mohammedan— second,  Christians — third, 
Druzes — fourth,  Jews — and  fifth,  Turks;  all  are  repre- 
sented and  all  have  devoted  followers,  each  equally  proud 
and  confident  concerning  his  particular  faith.  Many 
indeed  are  the  wrangles  consequent  upon  this  bigoted 
state  of  belief.  I  will  briefly  glance  at  each  of  these 
sects,  and  first  will  consider,  in  inverse  order,  the  Turks. 
These  in  my  humble  opinion  form  the  very  dregs  of  the 
land.  Weak  physically  and  morally,  effeminately  timid, 
low,  base,  and  dishonest   (unless  poor)  cowardly,  avari- 


T  11  r     I  1    R  K  s. 


cious,  extortionate — thej  are  indeed  to  be  despised  of  all ; 
ami  ye\  these  are  the  despots  of  the  land,  who  grind  down 
with  an  iron  heel  the  poor  subject — the  few  nobleT  man  ! — 
the  rude  Beddwy.  Office-holding  in  Syria  is  but  a  name 
— and  a  fearful  narru  ii  is.  The  Turk  of  course  (ills  this 
office;  he  who  is  richesl  gets  the  Pashalic,  and  then  lie  is 
at  liberty  to  extort  what  he  nia\  from  those  under  him. 
The  pom-  creatures  have  no  one  to  whom  they  can  flee 
for  protection — no  law  is  there  to  spread  over  them  its 
guardian  wing;  and  it  is  to  be  much  wondered  at,  that  a 
revolution  lias  not  long  since  broken  forth  and  hurled 
down  the  tyrannical  rulers  from  their  thrones.  Indeed,  it 
is  \et  to  he  hoped  that  this  will  he  an  event  which  shall 
not  lie  postponed  an  hundred  years.  Singular  indeed 
that  some  potent  Protestant  power  of  Europe  does  not  take 
this  mighty  question  of  man's  thraldom  into  considera- 
tion. 

Whenever  the  Turk  is  poor  or  kept  from  office — the 
former  sure  to  be  true  unless  the  latter  be  the  case — then 
he  i-  honest  and  more  to  be  respected.  Indeed  the  best 
traits  of  character  in  Syria  are  found  among  the  lower 
orders  of  society.  Fortunately  the  rule  of  any  pasha  is 
short — some  one  will  outbid  him,  and  then  he  falls  a,  vic- 
tim to  the  bowstring  or  dagger.  But  while  he  is  in  office 
his  gains  are  inordinately  great,  no  matter  through  wdiat 
channel,  or  by  what  instrumentality  obtained.  It  will  be 
aeeil  then,  such  being  the  state  of  affairs  socially  and 
politically,  that  the  Turk  is  not  overburdened  with  love  for 
country  ;  bo  that  his  own  ends  an;  advanced,  he  cares  not 
for   the   weal    or  woe  of  the  empire,   unless   indeed  that 


THE     JEWS.  61 


weal  or  woe  involves  him.  The  necessary  consequence 
of  this  feeling  is  that  nowhere  do  we  see  anything  like 
the  work  of  internal  improvement — the  development  of 
natural  resources — nor  even  a  feeling  manifested  to  that 
end.  Everywhere  dilapidation  and  decay  mark  the 
country  and  offend  the  eye ;  the  squalid  streets  of  Jeru- 
salem, the  filth  of  Bethany,  the  poverty  of  Jaffa,  attest 
the  truth  that  Syria  is  of  all  lands  the  "  curst."  There 
is  only  one  redeeming  city,  that  I  know  of  in  Syria,  pos- 
sessing a  higher  grade  than  the  generality  of  cities  of 
the  Holy  Land — but  it  is  elevated  by  the  presence  of 
foreign  dignitaries  and  trade  from  abroad.  The  English 
and  American  element  has  done  much,  morally  speaking, 
particularly  towards  elevating  in  the  social  scale  beautiful 
Beirut.  Even  in  the  streets  of  this,  what  might  be  justly 
esteemed  the  capital  of  Syria,  are  many  disgusting  fea- 
tures which  time,  aided  by  foreign  influence,  must  and 
will  sooner  or  later  expel. 

The  Jews  form  an  interesting  feature  of  remark  in 
Palestine  and  Syria.  Nearly  nineteen  hundred  years  ago 
they  were  driven  forth  from  their  native  soil,  and  since  that 
time  the  peculiar  cast  of  countenance  characteristic  of  this 
clown-trodden  people  has  been  observed  in  every  land  be- 
neath the  sun.  How  strikingly  true  is  prophecy !  The  poor 
Jew  yet  clings  to  Jerusalem — his  mother — with  astonishing 
affection  ;  and  the  many  rude  slabs  that  scar  the  sides  of 
Mount  Olivet,  tell  piteous  and  mournful  tales,  far  more 
pathetically  than  words  can  portray.  About  twenty-five 
thousand  Jews  inhabit  Syria  and  Palestine,  yet  they  are 
very  different  among  themselves  in  customs  and  manners  ;. 


PHE    CHRIST]  A  N  S. 

those  inhabiting  Jerusalem,  Tiberias,  Safet,  and  Hebron, 
lie  all  foreigners,  who  have  wandered  back  to  the  bomes 
of  their  ancestors,  thai  their  dusl  might  repose  beneath 
the  turf  of  their  Long-lost  and  once  happy  land.  They 
number  between  eight  and  nine  thousand,  and  are  as 
abject  as  they  well  can  be.  But  many  .lews  living  in 
Damascus  and  other  places  of  Syria,  arc  Arabs  in  every- 
thing— in  dress,  occupation,  customs — except  in  religion. 
They  are  natives  of  the  land,  and  many  enjoy  the  highest 
influence,  especially  as  moneyed  men.  Yet  a  cruel  for- 
tune— a   fortune    incident  to  the   race — seems   to  follow 

en  them;  a  Jew  maybe  to-day  a  millionaire  (in  Syria)  — 
to-morrow  he  may  be,  not  only  penniless,  but — a,  dead  man. 
Singular  is  that  curse,  and  more  strangely  true — if  indeed 
we  can  wonder  at  the  workings  of  the  Divine  Hand — is 
that  curse  fulfilled.  A  case  in  point  I  find  recorded  in  a 
work  (in  the  East  which  I  here  give.  "The  head  of  the 
chief  Jewish  family  in  Damascus  was,  in  the  beginning  of 
'he  present  century,  the  banker  and  prime  minister  of  the 
notorious  Jezzar,  Pacha  of  Acre,  lie  was  for  a  time  the 
actual  ruler  of  a  large  seel  ion   of  Syria;  but  the  scene 

-  soon  changed.  He  first  lost  an  eye  because  he  was 
proud--- then  the  nose  because  he  was  handsome — then 
the  head  because  he  did  not  please  his  master." 

The  Christians  of  Syria  and  Palestine  are  composed 
chiefly  of  the  members  of  the  Greek  church,  and  of 
Papal  divisions  called  i he  (; reek-Catholic  and  Syrian- 
Catholic  schism.  The  Greek  church  predominates  con- 
Biderably;  it  numbers  one  hundred  and  sixteen  thousand 
— the  entire    Christian    poj  ulation    amounting  to  three 


THE    GREEK    CHURCH.  03 


hundred  and  twenty-four  thousand  souls.  They  possess 
the  finest  churches,  and  their  ceremonies  are  the  most 
imposing  of  any  sect  in  the  Holy  Land.  The  Greek 
chapel  in  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre,  in  Jerusalem,  is 
really  a  beautiful  and  costly  chamber,  and  compares  well 
with  those  of  Rome,  Florence,  and  other  Italian  cities. 
They  have  neither  statues  nor  images,  as  we  see  in  the 
churches  of  Italy  and  of  Continental  Europe  generally. 
I  did  not  even  see  a  common  wooden  crucifix ;  but  they 
possess  many  paintings,  and  some  of  the  rarest  style  of 
art.  The  clergy  possess  no  college  for  the  education  of 
their  members,  and  the  simple  ordination  is  all  that  is 
required.  They  have  several  fine  schools,  however,  and 
their  course  of  instruction  is  of  a  high  grade ;  one  of  the 
best  of  these  schools  is  located  about  a  half  mile  west  of 
Jerusalem;  the  building  used  is  the  old  Convent  of  the 
Cross,  rejuvenated.  Russia,  to  whom  the  church  looks 
as  its  grand  protectress,  has  showered  on  it  many  kind- 
nesses in  the  well-appearing  shape  of  yellow  gold ;  it  is, 
indeed,  that  country  which  erects  the  public  buildings, 
and  supports  the  schools  of  the  Greek  Church.  There  is 
one  singular  condition  upon  which,  together  with  certain 
other  requisitions,  a  member  from  the  laity  becomes  one 
of  the  clergy — he  must  marry. 

The  Greek  Church  is*  simply  Greek  in  name — Greek, 
merely  because  its  members  profess  *the  Greek  or  Oriental 
faith  ;  for  almost  every  man  is  a  native  Syrian,  as  I  have 
taken  pains  to  learn.  The  higher  clergy,  however,  are 
nearly  all  foreigners,  and  are  but  little  acquainted  with 
the  Arabic  language.     The  Greek  portion  of  this  church 


i'»  I  I'  ll  E     M  k RON!  TES. 


and  the  Greek-Catholic  of  the  Papal  schism,  are  the  only 
Beets  in  Western  Asia  which  have  services  in  their  own 
tongue;  it  is  considered  a  greal  privilege. 

The  Greek  Church  has  two  patriarchites — one  a1  Jeru- 
salem, which  "includes  the  whole  of  Palestine  and  the 
country  east  of  the  -  Ionian,  and  lias  under  it  the  follow- 
ing bishoprics:  Nazareth.  'Akka  (Acre),  Lydda,  Gaza, 
Sebaste,  Nabulus,  Philadephia,  and  Petra.  Among  these, 
the  bishop  of  "Akka  is  the  only  prelate  who  resides  in 
his  diocese;  all  the  others  in  Jerusalem.  The  patriarch 
generally  resides  at  Constantinople."  The  other  patri- 
archite  is  at  Antioch,  the  patriarch  of  which  usually 
resides  at  Damascus — and  "includes  (in  Syria)  the  eight 
bishoprics  of  Beirut,  Tripoli,  Akkar,  Laodicia,  Hamah, 
Hum-.  Saidnaya,  and  Tyre."  These  two  patriarchites 
are  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Primate  of  Constantino- 
ple. The  ritual  of  the  Greek  Church  differs  (in  Syria) 
from  the  Romish,  "  in  the  calendar — the  procession  of  the 
Holy  Spirit — rejection  of  a  purgatory — communion  in 
both  kinds — exclusion  of  images  from  sacred  buildings, 
ami  tie-  marriage  of  the  secular  clergy" — making  a  num- 
ber  of  Bix  articles  of  difference.  It  is  in  the  Greek  Church, 
i  seel — as  the  reader  will  find  farther  on  in  this  work, 
that  the  miserable  farcy  deception  of  the  holy  fire  is  per- 
formed. 

The  best  informed  men  of  any  Christian  sect  in  Syria, 
may  he  found  among  the  followers  of  John  Maron,  who 
founded  the  order  of  the  Maronitea ;  this  sect  originated 
about  the  latter  part  of  the  sixth  century,  I  believe,  and 
increased  greatly  in  numbers  in  a  very  short  space  of  time. 


THE     MAROKITES.  65 


Several  centuries  later,  however,  they  swore  allegiance  to 
the  Pope,  and  have  been  his  warmest  and  most  faithful 
friends  and  adherents  ever  since.  Yet  they  differ  in  some 
important  points  with  the  Latin  ritual :  their  saint's  name 
cannot  be  found  in  the  calendar ;  any  candidate  for  the 
priesthood  can  marry  ;  and  their  ecclesiastical  language  is 
Syriac. 

The  Maronites,  although  inhabiting  many  small  and 
several  large  towns  in  Syria,  yet  may  be  said  to  have 
their  dwelling-place  chiefly  in  the  Lebanon  range,  which, 
however  rough  and  craggy,  owing  to  the  industry  and 
skill  of  this  sect,  may  be  justly  styled  the  "Garden  of 
Syria."  In  the  deep  and  romantic  dells,  and  on  the  lofty 
and  beetling  brow  of  the  flinty  precipices,  this  bold  moun- 
taineer-sect lives  and  rears  its  convents  and  institutions 
of  mercy.  Their  Patriarch  resides  in  the  mountain  gorge 
of  Kadisha,  not  far  from  the  celebrated  "  Cedars."  The 
Maronites,  in  proportion  to  numbers,  it  is  said,  possess 
more  convents  than  any  other  known  sect.  Their  bitter- 
est foes  seem  to  be  the  Druzes,  who,  though  considerably 
less  in  numbers,  are  far  more  warlike  than  their  agricul- 
tural neighbors.  In  Syria  they  hesitated  not  to  say  that 
this  order — the  Druzes — is  instigated  to  acts  of  violence 
by  the  under-hand  deviltry  of  the  Turkish  government — 
what  end  to  gain  I  am  ignorant.  Gregory  XIII.  founded 
a  college  (the  Holy  See)  in  Rome  for  the  education  of  the 
chosen  of  the  Maronite  youth  ;  and  two  brothers,  whose 
joint  fame  alone  is  sufficient  to  raise  the  intellectual 
standard  of  their  church,  here  received  their  learning 
5 


66  T  UK     MOHAM  M  EDA  X  S. 

.1.  A.  and  .1.  S.  A.ssemans  were  Maronites,  and  were  two 

;>t'  the  most  celebrated  scholars  and  authors  in  the  Orient. 
There  is  a  native  college  or  high  school  belonging  to 
this  order  situated  in  the  districl  of  Kisrawan  in  the 
Lebanon,  at  a  place  called,  if  I  mistake  not.  Win  Warkah, 
or.  as  sometimes  spelt)  simply  Warkah.  It  stands  well 
a-   a  native    institute.      The   entire   number  of  Maronites 

in  the  Kast  rises  to  the  figure  of  220,000. 

There  is  yet  another  small  sect  which,  on  account  of 
the  paucity  of  its  numbers,  and  of  the  insignificant  rank 
it  holds  among  the  other  more  powerful  faiths,  it  is 
almost  out  of  place  to  mention;  vet  what  there  is  of  these 
people,  they  are  known  to  be  a  brave  and  industrious 
(lass.  I  refer  to  the  Jacobins  of  Syria,  wrhose  stronghold 
is  in  a  small  town  not  far  from  Damascus,  the  name  of 
which  has  escaped  me.  Their  Patriarch,  who  is  their 
head,  resides  in  Mesopotamia;  their  ecclesiastical  lan- 
guage is  Syriac,  which  is  understood  to  a  greater  or  less 
extent  among  the  people;  from  this  fact  they  sometimes 
style  themselves  Syrians. 

The  Mohammedans,  or  the  real  rulers  of  the  land,  form 
the  largest  portion  of  the  community.  Their  faith  leads 
them  to  look  down  with  disdain  on  all  other  sects — to  be 
proud,  fanatical,  and  overbearing.  The  upper  class  of 
Mohammedans,  or  those  inhabiting  cities,  are  generally 
effeminate  and  weak,  physically  and  morally — attribut- 
able perhaps  to  precocious  marriages  or  excessive  animal 
indulgences.  The  Mohammedan  inhabitant  of  the  coun- 
ts;/ is  a  different  person  alb  gether,  save  in  religion;  he  is 
strong,  active,  energetic,  and  worthy  of  a  better  position 


THE     ANSAIRIYEH.  (*,' 


in  life.  There  is  one  good  feature  observable  in  respect 
to  this  sect — Mohammedans,  of  all  classes,  are  very  hos- 
pitable; their  offers  of  kindness  are  generally  sincere,  too. 
Mohammedans  are  divided  into  several  sects,  chief 
among  which  is  the  orthodox  Mohammedan,  or  Sonnites 
(Traditionists),  "that  is,  in  addition  to  the  written  word 
of  the  Koran,  which  they  acknowledge  with  all  others, 
they  recognise  the  authority  of  the  Sonna — a  collection 
of  traditional  sayings  and  anecdotes  of  the  prophet,  which 
is  a  kind  of  supplement  to  the  Koran,  directing  the  right 
observance  of  many  things  omitted  in  that  book." 
Besides  the  orthodox  Mohammedans,  there  are  at  least 
three  other  divisions  or  branches,  all  claiming  to  be  the 
followers  of  Mohammed — namely,  the  Metawileh,  the 
Ansairiyeh,  and  the  Ismailiyeh ;  the  first  reside  in  the  dis- 
trict of  Ba'albeck,  near  the  village  of  Hurmul,  on  the 
west  bank  of  the  river  Orontes,  and  on  the  southern 
slope  of  Lebanon.  They  believe  in  Aly  as  the  true 
Khalif,  and  reject  the  Sonna,  and  are  particularly  scrupu- 
lous as  regards  cleanliness.  Their  ceremonial  observances 
are  very  rigid.  Too  much  familiarity  gives  decided 
offence ;  a  dignified,  upright  course  of  conduct  should  be 
aimed  at.  Our  ends  will  be  thus  more  readily  gained.  It 
is  said  by  some  who  are  well  acquainted  with  their  habits, 
that  they  will  for  ever  throw  aside  a  cup  which  has  been 
used  by  one  of  another  faith — fancying  contamination,  of 
course. 

Relative  to  the  Ansairiyeh,  some  doubt  has  existed 
whether  they  may  be  classed  as  disciples  of  Mohammed 
or  not ; — but  by  the  Assemanns  it  is  stated  that  they  are 


THE    DRUZ  I  S. 

it  balf  Mohammed,  and  balf  Christian.  They  are  a 
race  more  to  he  feared  than  liked — as  their  hands  are 
often  stained  with  blood.  They  live  north  of  the  Lebanon 
range  near  to  A.ntioch.  "The^  believe  in  the  transmi- 
gration of  souls;  and  observe  in  a  singular,  perhaps 
idolatrous  manner,  a  few  of  the  ceremonies  common  to 
the  Eastern  Church."  Their  religion,  In  fine,  to  say  as 
much  as  we  know  of  it.  is  a  mystery.  The  same  can  be 
I  of  the  [smailiyeh.  They  are  the  remainsof  what  was 
known  in  the  time  of  the  Wars  of  the  Cross  as  Assassins. 

ir  capital  or  -rand  rendezvous  for  the  clan — for  it  is  no- 
thing more  nor  less — is  in  the  mountains  west  of  Hamah. 
Druzes  (el-Deruz,  in  Arabic)  are  the  most  import- 
ant people,  representing  any  faith,  in  Syria.  They  are 
the  pretended  allies  of  England,  and  promised  that  nation, 
some  years  ago,  to  become  Christians.  It  was  simply, 
however,  to  gain  the  national  protection  of  that  power. 
They  are  known  to  be  Bcheming,  and  will  use  truth  and 
mendacity  alike,  as  regards  their  interest  and  convenience. 
They  are  quite  a  warlike  people,  and  are  noted  for  their 

xi-thirstiness,  especially  when  urged  on  by  revengeful 
motives.  They  occupy  the  southern  portion  of  the 
I.  tanon  range,  and  are  represented  to  a  small  extent  in 
D  aascus  and  Beveral  small  villages.  The  Druzes  are 
divided  religiously  into  the 'Okkal  and  the  Jukkal,  or  the 
initiated  and  the  uninitiated.  The  former  are  by  far  the 
most  influential ;  the  secrets  of  the  order,  the  holy  books, 
.  are  kept  by  them  only.  They  superintend  the 
secret  meetings  of  the  fraternity — which  secret  meetings 
indeed  are  now  thought  to  he  Less  of  a  religious,  than  of 


THE     DRUZES.  69 


a  political  nature.  They  hate  the  Maronites,  and  arc 
willing  to  wage  war  on  them  to  the  knife.  One  Hakim,  a 
notorious  Egyptian  of  the  Fatimite  dynasty,  it  is  said 
first  propagated  the  faith  of  the  Druzes,  before  the  tenth 
century.  He  was  followed  by  a  wild  fanatical  Persian  at 
a  still  later  date,  who  proclaimed  the  views  of  Hakim 
with  uncommon  ardor — so  much  so,  in  fact,  that  his 
raving  fanaticism  drove  him  from  Egypt  to  the  far  off 
Mt.  Hermon,  where  in  time  he  became  the  actual  founder 
of  the  Druze  faith.  Of  this  faith,  mode  of  worship,  and 
tenets,  we  know  almost  nothing.  De  Lacy  accidentally 
obtained  a  few  of  their  books,  from  which  he  gleaned  the 
following  facts  as  regards  their  confession  of  faith — to 
wit : — 

"  1.  The  Unity  of  God,  and  his  manifestation  of  Him- 
self to  men,  in  the  persons  of  several  individuals,  the  last 
of  whom  was  Hakim. 

"  2.  Five  superior  spiritual  ministers  always  existing. 
These  have  also  appeared  in  the  persons  of  men  at  various 
periods.     The  chief  of  them  were  Hamza  and  Christ. 

"  3.  The  transmigration  of  souls.  The  souls  of  men 
never  pass  into  animals. 

"  4.  The  belief  in  a  period  when  their  religion  shall  be 
triumphant — Hakim  shall  reign,  and  all  others  be  subject 
to  him  for  ever. 

"  5.  The  seven  points  of  Islam  are  set  aside,  and  the 
following  substituted: — 1.  Veracity  (to  each  other). 
2.  Mutual  protection  and  aid.  3.  Renunciation  of 
all  other  religions  (implying  persecution  of  others). 
4.   Profession  of  the  unity  of  Hakim   (as  God).     5.  Con- 


70  SYRIA     AND     PALESTIJS  E. 


bentment    with   his   works.     6.    Submission   to  his  will. 
7    Separation  from  those  in  error  and  from  demons.' 

It  is  observed  that  the  Druzes  build  their  monasteries 
.Hid  houses  of  worship  in  retired  places,  though  always 

ispicuously,  as  on  high  hills — to  gain  complete  privacy 
I  suppose.     Their  numbers  amount  to  nearly  80,000. 

What  we  mean  by  Syria  and  Palestine  is  that  grand 
section  of  country  lying  on  the  eastern  shore  of  the 
Mediterranean  Sea.  extending  from  the  peninsula  of 
Sinai  on  the  south  to  far  off  Asia  .Minor  in  the  north — 
the  Great  Arabian  Desert  bounding  its  eastern  border;  or 
it  lies  between  31  30'  and  37°  north  latitude.  Its 
greatest  length  thus  being  360  geographical  miles,  its 
breadth  50  to  LOO,  and  possessing  an  area  of  28,000 
ire  miles.  The  surface  formation  of  the  country  is 
generally  simple,  though  its  different  sections  present 
widely  varying  and  different  scenery.  For  example. 
among  the  mountain  ranges  of  the  north,  in  the  deep 
dingles  and  yawning  chasms  of  Lebanon,  the  landscapi 
hold,  striking,  and  grand  ;  while  the  low,  flat,  sand}-  dis- 
tricts of  the  south — the  Plain  of"  Sharon  for  instance — 
uninviting  and  barren  in  scenery.  A  mountain  range 
made  of  divers  chains  runs  throughout  the  entire  length 
of  the  country;  and  uear  the  "entering  in  of  Hamath." 
not  far  from  Beirut,  -tern  and  awe-inspiring  Lebanon 
lifts  it-elf  up  10,000  feet  above  tin-  sea,  and  frowns  down 
in  sullen  grandeur  on  those  once  fair  and  famed,  hut  now 
sunken  cities  of  the  Plain — Tyre  and  Sidon,  Gebal  and 
Berytus.  What  a  change  and  a  contrast  these  places  must 
now   present    to  their  magnificence   and   splendor   long 


SHARON.  71 


buried  beneath  the  wreck  of  rolling  centuries !  It  is 
mournful  to  contemplate  the  miserable  debris  of  what 
these  cities  once  were ;  their  glory  has  departed,  and, 
withers  now  beneath  the  curse  of  offended  Deity,  they 
moulder  away  in  the  shadow  of  haughty  Lebanon. 

Grouped  by  themselves,  solitary  and  completely  alone, 
on  the  highest  terrace  that  graces  the  craggy  slopes  of 
Lebanon,  are  the  far-famed  "  Cedars."  Their  number  is 
now  small,  and  the  rude  blasts  which  howl  through  their 
white  arms  tell  us,  they  too,  soon  will  be  gone. 

As  we  come  down  towards  the  south,  Philistia  is  spread 
before  us,  and  the  broad  and  fertile  Sharon — stretching 
from  the  base  of  the  southern  section  of  the  Lebanon 
range  for  the  space  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles — opens 
its  vast  and  pleasing  panorama  to  our  view.  I  never  saw 
a  sterner  scene  of  beauty  than  is  presented  in  the  extended 
champaign  of  Sharon;  the  soil  here,  must  even  now  teem 
with  qualities  indicative  of  the  highest  fertility.  Its 
broad  bosom  sparkling  with  ten  millions  of  beautiful  and 
many-colored  flowers,  presented  the  grandest  sight  I  ever 
beheld — truly  it  was  the  mammoth  floral  carpet  of  nature. 
The  ridge  of  the  Anti-Lebanon  commences  twenty-five 
miles  east  of  Lebanon,  and  runs  parallel  with  the  latter. 
Its  general  height  is  not  so  great  as  Lebanon,  yet  snow- 
capped Hermon,  belonging  to  the  chain,  rivals  in  grandeur 
any  peak  in  Syria.  It  is  generally  conceded  that  this 
range  terminates  about  eight  or  nine  miles  north  of  the 
Sea  of  Tiberias.  Besides  these  there  are  other  mountains 
of  note  and  size — those  of  Gilead  lying  along  the  east  of 
Jordan,  which  join  the  Moab  mountains  in  the  region  of 


in  1:    t.  i;  i   \  r    \'  ami  y. 


the  Dead  Sea.  It  was  through  these  cliffs  the  Israelites 
marched  ow  their  way  to  the  Promised  Land — and  it  was 
from  Nebo,  belonging  to  this  range,  thai  Moses  beheld 
those  broad  Gelds  and  stretching  plains  which  he  was  not 
permitted  to  enter — the  land  •■  flowing  with  milk  and 
honej  ."  V<'t  another  group  of  mountains  deserves  atten- 
tion— that  iA'  Jebel  Hauran,  bordering  on  Bashan,  a  Long 

WaV  to  the  east  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee; — on    the    slopes  of 

these  mountains  are  many  magnificent  ruins,  some  in 
the  finest  state  of  presers  ation. 

But  without  doubt  the  grand  physical  feature  of  the 
country  is  the  great  valley  running  from  north  to  south. 
It  seems  to  he  the  result  of  some  grand  geological  convul- 
sion. Antioeh.  Hamath,  and  Emesa  stood  in  it;  and  from 
it  went  forth  much  of  the  enlightenment  of  those  days 
far  gone.  As  far  down  as  the  valley  of  Coelesyria  this 
immense    gorge    actually    forms    the    bed    of    the    river 

ates.  In  this  valley  also  rests  the  Dead  Sea — the 
mystery  of  mysteries — whose  history  and  correct  expla- 
nation of  its  singular  phenomena  have  puzzled  the  wisest 
of  men.  In  this  connection  1  am  proud  to  say  our  own 
country  has  done  more  towards  enlightening  the  public 
mind  relative  to  this  waveless  sheet,  than  any  other  nation 

the  globe.  (>n  the  far  oil'  shores  of  this  desolate  sea 
our  vernacular  has  been  spoken,  and  our  banner  has  here 
floated  on  the  breezes  of  Palestine.  But  its  broad  folds 
covered  none  hut  a  body  of  working  men — men  who,  by 
sanction  of  their  government,  had  gone  to  that  distant 
(dime  to  ;iid  in  distributing  a  quota  of  knowledge  to  the 

rid  concerning  this  wonderful  handiwork  of  nature's 


THE    JORDAN.  73 


God.  Lieutenant  Lynch  and  his  indefatigable  party  have 
won  for  themselves  an  enviable  fame  for  the  eminent  ser- 
vices they  rendered  to  mankind,  by  delving  into  this 
desolate  secret  of  far  away  Judea. 

Chief  among  the  rivers  of  Palestine  stands  of  course  the 
God-consecrated  Jordan.  In  its  waters  Jesus  of  Nazareth 
was  baptized,  and  over  it  passed  the  hosts  of  the  Israelites. 
One  of  the  most  striking  jDhysical  features  of  the  Jordan 
is  the  fact  that  its  level  is  far  below  that  of  the  Mediterra- 
nean. It  has  in  reality  three  sources — one  near  the 
ancient  Caesarea — Philippi,  on  the  south  side  of  Her- 
mon — the  second  near  the  western  base  of  this  mountain, 
and  the  third  on  the  plain  of  Huleh.  They  all  three 
coalesce  in  one,  and  empty  into  the  "  waters  of  Merom" 
of  the  Bible.  It  takes  its  course  through  the  little  Sea 
of  Galilee,  and  continues  down  the  great  valley,  of  which 
wre  have  spoken,  towards  the  Sea  of  Tiberias  and  the 
Dead  Sea ;  between  which  two  localities — a  distance  of 
sixty  miles  or  thereabout — there  is  a  fall  of  over  six  hun- 
dred feet.  Throughout  its  greater  length  the  Jordan  has 
two  separate  and  distinct  banks,  and  lower  down  towards 
its  farther  end  it  has  three.  Lieutenant  Lynch,  writing 
in  this  connection,  says — "  The  high  alluvial  terraces  on 
each  side  were  everywhere  shaped  by  the  action"  of  the 
winter  rains  into  numbers  of  conical  hills,  some  of  them 
pyramidal  and  cuneiform,  presenting  the  appearance  of 
a  giant  encampment,  so  perfectly  tent-like  were  their 
shapes.  *  *  *  *  The  banks  were  fringed  with  the  laurus- 
tinus,  the  oleander,  the  willow,  and  the  tamarisk ;  and 
further  inland,  on  the  slope  of  the  second  terrace,  grew  a 


71  THE    ORON  rES. 


small  species  of  oak  and  the  cedar.  The  arbutus  was 
mingled  with  the  flowersofthe  plain."    The  total  Length, 

air-line.  o['  the  Jordan  is  ninety-six  miles — though  should 
we  reckon  eacb  meandering,  the  distance  would  be 
increased  to  over  two  hundred  miles. 

The  Litany  is  a  beautiful  stream,  and  of  considerable 
importance.  In  regard  to  its  name,  some  contention  has 
existed;  some  say  it  should  be,  not  Litany,  hut  Leontes 
Dr.  Porter,  whom  I  take  to  be  the  best  authority  on  Syria 
and  Palestine,  prefers  Litany,  and  1  have  so  recorded  it. 
The  river  has  its  source  somewhere  near  the  site  of  ruined 
Ba'albek,  flows  its  rugged  way  through  a  wild  gorge  in 
Lebanon,  and  finally  empties  into  the  Mediterranean. 
fifty  miles  from  its  source. 

The  Orontes  is  a  fine  river,  and  if  superiority  in  size 
should  give  it  priority  of  notice,  it  should  have  been  men- 
tioned before  the  Litany:  it  is  next  in  size  to  the  Jordan. 
This  Btream  apparently  runs  backwards,  and  hence  the 
Arabs  call  it  el-Maklub  (tht  inverted).  From  the  far-off 
fool  of  the  Anti-Lebanon  it  rises,  and  after  turning  on 
itself  once  or  twice,  and  running  throughout  its  length  a 
most  singular  course,  it  finally  and  abruptly  falls  into  the 
Mediterranean  Sea  near  Seleucida.  It  is  longer  than  the 
Jordan  or  the  Litany,  being  about  two  hundred  miles  from 

Lrce  to  mouth. 

The  fourth  river  is  the  most  beautiful,  and,  it  is  said. 
the  most  useful  Btream  in  Syria.  It  is  the  Abana  of 
Scripture,  or,  more  properly,  the  Barada  of  the  Arabs. 
It  arises  in  the  Anti-Lebanon,  courses  through  the  moun- 
tains to  the  plain  of  Damascus,  runs  through  this  plain. 


THE     PHARPAR.  75 


and  finally  empties  into  the  lake  el-Kibliyeh.  Its  course 
is  through  a  fertile  and  prosperous  country  (compara- 
tively), and  many  villages  border  on  its  banks. 

The  Pharpar  (or  rather,  those  streams  making  this 
river)  arises  at  the  base  of  Mt.  Hermon,  runs  almost  due 
east,  and,  after  a  wild  and  picturesque  course  through  the 
Plain  of  Damascus,  tumbles  into  the  lake  of  Hijaneh. 
It  is  a  beautiful  stream.  Well  might  the  haughty  Naa- 
man  interrogatively  reply  to  the  prophet :  "  Are  not 
Abana  and  Pharpar,  rivers  of  Damascus,  better  than  all 
the  waters  of  Israel  ?"  (2  Kings  v.) 


With  the  end  of  this  chapter  is  finished  all  that  I 
think  necessary  to  give,  in  such  a  brief  introduction  as 
has  been  spread  before  the  reader  in  the  preceding 
chapters. 

Chapter  V.  commences  my  journal,  to  which  reference 
has  been  made  in  the  preface. 


CHAPTER  V. 

At  sea,  Mediterranean,  French  ship  Quvrindl. 

Monday   Eve,  February  L4th,  L859. 

A/7'-  BIS  Journal  is  written  on  the  heaving  bosom  of  the 

\JL)    Mediterranean.     Once  again  my  foot  has  left  "the 

dry  land."  and  I  am  embarked  on  the  wide  waste 
of  waters!  God  protect  me  in  my  wanderings! 
The  day  has  been  spent  by  me  in  various  places  and  modes. 
Early  this  morning  I  made  final  arrangements  with 
my  passport — had  it  visaed — settled  my  bill  at  the 
locanda — and  was  cheated  by  my  rascally  courier,  Peti- 
nelli.  out  of  some  thirty  carlini,  relative  to  my  pistol 
purchased  for  my  Syrian  tour.  These  guides  are  a  cun- 
ning set  of  fellows ;  and.  to  avoid  being  badly  imposed 
od  by  them,  the  traveller  must  keep  his  eyes  open  and 
wits  about  him.  A  few  days  since,  I  called  near  the 
Palais  Royal,  at  a  gunsmith's,  and  decided  to  take  a  hand- 
some pistol.  Petinelli  told  me  that  I  had  better  leave  the 
weapon  at  tin-  shop  until  the  morning  I  should  sail,  as 
without  a  government  permit  I  could  not  take  the  pistol 
with  ni"  while  I  resided  in  Naples.  I  consented  to  be 
guided  by  his  advice,  and  deposited  two  Neapolitan  pias- 
.  for  bonne  confiance.  Never  mistrusting  any  rascality, 
!    called  this  morning  at  the  gunsmith's,  on  my  way  to  the 

(76) 


FAREWELLS.  77 


steamer.  What  was  my  surprise,  when  I  was  told  that 
Petinelli  had  been  there,  according  to  my  orders  he  said. 
and  taken  my  two  piastres,  alleging  I  wished  not  the  pis- 
tol!  The  rascal  had  bid  me  good-bye  in  the  morning, 
before  I  arose,  saying  he  had  to  leave  early  with  an 
American  family  for  Capri,  and  had  to  say  farewell  then. 
But  I  will  remember  him  when  I  return  to  Naples.  So 
much  for  misplaced  confidence  ! 

I  left  a  card  of  good-bye  for  my  dear  old  friend — of 
Paris  memory,  who  is  stopping  at  the  Hotel  d' Angleterre — 
and  then  continued  up  the  Chiaia,  and  laid  in  a  stock  of 
medicines  likely  to  be  needed  in  the  East.  But  the  hours 
wore  on,  and  finally  the  time  for  sailing  drew  near;  our 
party  said  good-bye  to  Naples,  and  repaired  to  the  wharf. 
Here  we  were  again  cheated  by  an  official,  who  wished 
to  examine  our  trunks.  S.  was  quite  angry,  and  came 
near  tossing  the  fellow  into  the  bay ;  but  at  last  we  shoved 
off,  and  after  a  long  pull,  for  the  sea  was  rough  and 
angry,  we  reached  the  steamer.  Here  my  good  friend. 
Frank  G.,  who  had  accompanied  us  to  the  gangway,  bade 
us  a  sorrowful  adieu,  and  kept  his  seat  in  the  boat.  Poor 
fellow  !  he  hated  to  part  with  me,  very  much ;  and  loth 
was  I  to  say  good-bye  to  him.  We  have  been  together 
now  so  long — have  traversed  France,  Belgium,  Prussia. 
Germany,  and  Italy  together — and,  moreover,  he  and  my- 
self were  the  first  movers  in  this  Holy  Land  expedition. 
But  it  could  not  be  helped  ;  a  hard  squeeze  of  the  hand — 
a  long  embrace — a  smothered  "  God  bless  you  !"  and  he 
•  tore  himself  away.     1  am  in  hopes  he   will  join   us  at 


THE    QUIRINAL. 

Valetta,  in  Malta,  where  u-<  will  be  compelled  to  tarry 
eight  days.  ******* 

Ami  bo  1  have  once  again  turned  my  "  anxious  prow" 
ards  a  more  distant  land,  and  my  back  is  still  on  my 
republican  country,  far  towards  the  sunset.  Yes.  America 
has  been  left,  the  continent  of  Europe  has  sunken  from 
my  sight,  and  1  am  wandering  yet  on  the  face  of  the  deep. 
The  ruins  of  buried  Herculaneum  and  of  exhumed  Pom- 

— the  <i\\\  ( Shiaia,  and  the  crowded  Toledo  of  Naples — 
\  esuvius  with  its  smoking  crest  and  fiery  cataracts,  with 
the  placid  bay  spread  wide  at  its  base — are  tar  in  the  dis- 
tance. Shall  I  ever  sec  them  again,  and  wander  amid 
those  scenes  made  so  interesting  to  me  by  classic  associa- 
tion.-'.' Many  miles  of  watery  waste  have  to  be  crossed 
before  I  again  rest  my  eyes  on  that  spot  where  rises  the 
tomb  of  the  Prince  of  Latin  poets,  and  God  only  knows 
whether  I  shall  ever  again  return  to  that  city  I  left  five 
hours  since. 

We  are  on  the  French  steamer.  Quirinal,  a  fine  boat 
belonging  to  the  line  of  the  Messageries  Imperiales;  and 
are  comfortably  fixed.  We  broke  our  wheel,  or  something 
connected  with  it.  about  two  hours  since,  and  for  a  time. 
there  was  some  confusion  ;  hut  the  promptness  of  the  offi- 

-  ha-  enabled  us  to  he  under  way  again,  and  now  we 
are  nobly  dashing  on  once  more.  It  is  a  wild,  dark. 
stormy  oight,  and  the  water  is  very  rough.  I  hope  the 
Quirinal  will  lie  equal  to  her  duty.  The  wind  whistles 
in  an  awful  manner  through  the  rigging,  and  the  sudden. 
jerking  motion  indicates  that  the  ship  Labors.     1  just  can 


SEA-SICKNESS.  79 


manage  to  write  my  journal.    The  sun  set  to-night  behind 
a  cloud. 

At  Sea,  -south  of  Messina — steamer  Quirinal.  1 
Tuesday,  February  15th,  1859.  j 
This  has  been  a  most  rough  and  disagreeable  day. 
Nothing  but  toss,  pitch,  and  tumble.  The  Quirinal  is 
not  as  sea-worthy  as  I  at  first  thought.  She  labors 
heavily,  and  sometimes  seems  as  if  she  would  be  knocked 
abeam-ends.  I  hope  for  the  best.  I  have  not,  as  yet, 
been  sea-sick,  though  to-day,  when  leaving  Messina,  and 
running  through  the  famous  pass  of  Scylla  and  Charybdis, 
of  classic  memory,  I  came  near  falling  a  victim  to  the 
sea-monster — so,  to  avoid  paying  tribute,  I  hurried  on 
deck,  and  escaped.  All  around  me  are  suffering  much, 
and  nothing  but  continued  whoops  and  sighs  of  agony  or 
of  relief,  salute  my  ear  as  I  write  these  words.  Of  course, 
under  the  circumstances,  one  must  be  excused  if  his 
subject-matter  is  not  good,  and  the  manner  in  which  he 
handles  it,  worse.  Some  think  it  an  indication  of  health 
to  be  susceptible  to  sea-sickness.  For  my  part,  I  believe 
the  assertion.  The  motion  of  the  ship  creates  an  un- 
natural motion,  and  an  organ  sufficiently  sensitive,  should 
feel  its  effects.  I  am  in  bad  health  at  present,  and  gene- 
rally am  never  sick  at  sea — that  is,  from  the  rolling  motion 
of  the  ship — in  other  words,  sea-sick.  Be  this  as  it  may, 
I  cannot  now  discuss  the  subject.  During  the  night 
through  which  we  have  just  lived,  we  had  very  rough 
weather,  and  the  briny  waves  dashed  from  stem  to  stern 
over  the  Quirinal.     But  we  survived  all ;  and,  despite  the 


30  i  ii  i:    CALABRIAN     COAST. 


weather,  earl}  this  morning,  we  cast  anchor  in  the  har- 
bor of  Messina,  in  Sicily. 

We  wished  to  go  ashore  and  look  around,  hut  passport 
regulations  were  so  Btringenl  as  to  deter  us.  So  we  con- 
tented ourselves  with  walking  the  deck,  and  gazing  at  the 
grand  mountain  ranges  of  the  Calabrian  coast,  where  tier 
after  tier  rose  the  lofty  ridges  of  granite,  until  they 
ned  to  touch  the  red  sky.  It  is  a  grand,  wild,  sublime- 
appearing  country,  and  I  should  like  much  to  ramble 
through  its  valleys,  mountain  gorges,  and  over  its  rocky 
heights.  That  pleasure  must  be  reserved  for  my  return 
trip.  We  laid  plan  on  plan  as  to  our  future  operations  in 
the  East,  and  feel  ourselves  now  thoroughly  advised  as  to 
our  mode  of  action  to  pursue  when  we  reach  the  far-off, 
down-trodden  land  of  the  lost  tribes  of  Israel.  I  might  as 
well  here  mention  those  composing  our  party,  as  they  will 
figure  to  a  certain  extent  in  this  my  journal,  hereafter  to 
be  filled  out.  My  original  party  on  the  European  conti- 
nent have  all  left  me  now  ;  some  to  journey  in  other  parts 
of  the  old  world,  and  some  to  return  to  their  far-off  homes 
in  America.  The  present  party  with  which  1  am,  joined 
me  by  agreement  in  Naples.  The  one  is  a  young  Dr.  S., 
from  Savannah,  Georgia.  He  is  already  an  old  friend  of 
mine,  being  my  constant  companion  in  the  pest  ward  of 
La  Charite  Hospital  in  Paris.  He  was  to  join  me  in 
Naples,  and  was  there  punctually.  He  came  l>y  the  port 
of  Marseilles,  and  while  in  that  city  he  stumbled  over  a 
German  ;  a  nice  old  fellow  he  is.  S.  found  out,  in  speak- 
in-  to  him  in  his  native  Deutech,  that  Meinherr  was 
hound  on  ;i   pilgrimage  to  the  far-off  Holy  City — Jerusa- 


LEAVE     MESSINA.  81 


lem.  The  two  immediately  became  confreres.  Meinherr 
delights  in  the  name  of  Johannis  Montag,  and  is  from 
Berlin.  So  we  three  make  the  party,  and  a  right  sociable 
one  it  is.  It  would  be  more  so,  were  it  not  that  Mein- 
herr is  profoundly  ignorant  of  every  language  save  his 
own ;  but  as  S.  and  myself  both  understand  a  smattering 
of  the  lingo  of  Vaterland,  we  get  along  well  enough. 

On  the  boat,  to-day,  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  Mr. 
G.,  from  Texas.  He  is  an  agreeable  young  fellow,  and 
was  acquainted  with  my  brother-in-law  at  the  West  Point 
Military  Academy.  He,  his  wife,  and  cousin  are,  like 
myself,  journeying  ultimately  to  Syria,  Palestine,  and 
Egypt.  We  sailed  from  the  harbor  of  Messina  this  after- 
noon, at  four  o'clock.  In  spite  of  our  wishes  that  the  storm 
at  sea  would  lull,  it  has  continued ;  and  directly  we  were 
free  from  the  shelter  of  the  harbor,  we  knew  that  the 
weather  was  rough.  At  the  hour  I  write  (nine,  p.  m.)  it 
is  yet  rougher,  and  has  every  inducement,  and  promises 
every  indication,  of  becoming  more  so.  Meinherr  and  S. 
have  both  succumbed  to  stress  of  weather,  and  by  unload- 
ing their  stomachs,  are  endeavoring  to  "  right  ship."  I 
am  fearful  myself  of  soon  being  laid  low ;  and  I  will  take 
Mr.  G.'s  invitation,  and  indulge  in  a  rough-and-tumble 
promenade  on  what  may  noiv  be  most  properly  called  the 
hurricane  deck. 

Malta  Cross  Hotel,  Valetta,  Malta.  | 
Wednesday,  February  16th,  1859.  J 

After  a  most  awful  stormy,  squally  night,  during  the 
long  hours  of  which  I  heard  more  than  one  "  Ach  !  mein 
Gott  T  from  Meinherr,  we  arrived   safely,  this  morning 


6 


82  TH  I      M  \  IT  A     C  ROSS     HOT  EL. 


hi  ten  v.  m..  in  the  harbor  of  Valetta.  Malta.  And  here 
we  had  to  disembark.  The  trouble  of  arranging  our  port- 
habits  and  Backs  \\  as  soon  through  \\  ith,  and  having  slipped 
Borne  pauls  into  the  hand  of  our  good  Bteward,  Baptiste, 
we  took  a  boat,  and.  being  thoroughly  wetted  by  the 
flying  spray,  finally  landed  on  this  bleak  island,  mid- 
way between  Europe  and  Africa.  Climbing  the  high 
bluff  along  the  shore.  1  uever  enjoyed  a  Lovelier,  or  rather 
grander  sighl  than  that  which  the  rough,  angry,  dark 
and  white  chopped  sea  presented,  stretching  out  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach.  I  gathered  some  flowers  which  were 
blooming  plentifully  around,  and  was  struck  by  their 
-wet  odor.  Under  the  guidance  of  Michele  Pisanni, 
alter  climbing  the  steps  in  the  street  of  Santa  Lucia,  we 
entered  this — the  Malta  Cross  Hotel,  kept  by  the  indi- 
vidual mentioned.  After  much  wrangling  between  us, 
all  three  being  determined  to  frown  down  cheating  of 
every  description,  for  which  we  were  warned  native 
Maltese  are  noted,  we  finally  concluded  to  take  rooms. 
We  are  now  most  comfortably  fixed,  and,  as  Meinherr, 
ed  over  the  other  side  of  the  spacious  hearth,  mutters 
something  about  "  Gott  in  himmel!"  1  suppose  he  is  return- 

a  thanks  to  the  A 11- Wise,  and  agrees  with  us  that  it  is 
more  pleasanl  here,  with  the  odor  of  a  oice  siipper  steal- 

!  through  the  closed  door,  than  it  was  in  the  wet  cabin 
<>!'  the  pitching  Quirinal.  Even  already,  our  future 
destination  is  known,  and  we  have  been  bored  and  vexed 
very  much  hy  guides  who  wish  us  to  take  them  as  drago- 
men, to  Berve  US  in  our  Syrian  trip,  and  we  fourteen 
hundred  miles   from  Jaffa!     Completely  ignorant,  how- 


COLD     WINDS.  83 


ever,  as  }^et,  how  to  proceed,  and  not  believing  a  single 
word  they  say,  we  are  undecided  how  to  act.  In  looking 
over  the  recommendations  of  one  of  these  fellows,  I  was 
surprised  to  see  the  name  of  J.  H.  S.,  Philadelphia, — 
a  gentleman  I  know  well,  at  sight.  This  is  no  spurious 
recommendation,  at  all  events.  I  have  sent  to  Mr.  G., 
of  Texas,  who  has  stopped  at  a  different  hotel,  to  see  if 
he  will  unite  with  our  party  in  taking  said  dragoman. 
At  last  we  are  started,  and  fairly  too,  on  our  expedition — 
nothing,  now,  can  turn  us  back.  It  is  my  haven  of  travel- 
ling desire,  at  all  events,  to  stand  under  the  shadow  of 
the  Temple,  and  walk  the  streets  of  the  City  of  the  Great 
Kinsf.  'Tis  singular — ha  !  what  is  the  matter  ?  S.  insists 
it  is  time  to  retire  to  our  chambers,  and  Meinherr  simply 
ejaculates,  though  he  knows  nothing  of  English,  under- 
standing S.  by  intuition,  I  suppose — "Ja,  ich  bin  sehr 
schlafrig  also — Gott  in  him m el  /"  and  so  I  must  close, 
though  I  feel  like  scribbling  more,  inasmuch  as  Morpheus 
has  not  yet  claimed  me  as  his  subject,  and  I  am  seated 
by  a  most  genial  fire.  The  cold  winds  that  creep  up  the 
narrow  street  out  there,  seem  inconsistent  with  the  gay 
flowers  blooming  on  the  beach,  and  with  the  ripe  fruit — 
oranges  that  fill  the  fruit-stands  in  the  streets.  Another 
most  decided  and  prolonged  twanging  yawn  from  Mein- 
herr's  capacious  jaws,  once  more  reminds  me  that  soon  it 
will  be  time  to  sleep. 

Malta  Cross  Hotel. 
Thursday,  February  17th,  18-59. 
The  close  of  this  day  finds  me  once  again  at  my  Jour- 
nal.    It  is  often  my  solace  and  only  comfort ! 


s  I  HERR    MONT  AG. 

A.nd  so  we  have  spent  one  whole  day  in  Malta!  Wo  com- 
menced operations  this  morning,  or  rather  operations  were 
commenced  by  S.,  who  awoke  me,  saying  I  was  talking 

rets  in  my  sleep.  1  thanked  him,  and  arose.  We 
descended  to  breakfast,  much  refreshed  by  our  slumber,  and 
soon,  Meinherr,  who  had  risen  long  before  we  had.  and  had 
attended  matins,  came  in,  his  lace  radiant  with  rosy  tints. 
gained  bj  exposure  to  the  frosty  atmosphere,  and 
wreathed  with  smiles — the  effect  of  the  pleasant  sight 
of  the  Ejood  meal  before  us.  Herr  Montae  is  a  strict 
religionist  in  his  peculiar  faith,  Roman  Catholic,  and 
never  Lets  an  opportunity  pass  unimproved  when  he  can 
bend  his  knee  to  the  Holy  Virgin.  He  is  travelling  to 
Jerusalem,  he  it  known,  for  the  .sole  purpose  of  devotion 
during  the  coming  Easter  holidays,  when  the  Holy  City 
i-  thronged  with  palmers  from  every  land.  Some  two 
months  ago.  Meinherr  fell  sick,  and  came  nigh  unto  death. 
His  sixteen  years  of  huzzar  life,  in  camp  and  field,  had 
tended  to  estrange  his  thoughts  from  his  Maker,  and 
Meinherr  sagely  inferred  his  sickness  was  a  Providential 
visitation,  and  made  a  sacred  vow,  should  he  be  spared 
this  time,  he  would  do  penance  for  his  evil  deeds,  in 
the  Church  of  the  Boly  Sepulchre  in  Jerusalem,  lie  is 
on  his  way  to  fulfil  that  vow  now.  and  it  will  remain  to 
me,  I  hope,  to  record  in  this  journal  that  good  Meinherr 
lived  up  to  his  vows. 

Having  finished  a  mosl  substantial  breakfast,  we  sallied 

out  to  lake  ;i  look   ;it  the  fine  old  town  of  Valetta,  called 

after  the  gallant    Templar,   who   so    nobly  defended  it 

from  the  Turkish  forces  in    L565.     We  were 


MALTA.  85 

much  struck  with  the  means  of  defence  in  the  shape 
of  fortification  on  fortification,  rising  on  each  other, 
until  nothing  is  seen  from  a  short  distance  but  the  dark 
mouths  of  cannon  with  which  the  ramparts  bristle. 
Malta,  geographically,  is  situated  finely  for  an  insular  and 
commanding  fortress.  Gibraltar  is  the  key  to  the  entrance 
of  the  Mediterranean ;  but  Malta,  accessible  easily  to  "  three 
quarters  of  the  globe,  and  having  its  situation  in  the  cen- 
tre of  the  Middle  Sea,'''  is  the  key  to  the  sea  itself,  and 
the  shores  of  the  rich  countries  bordering  thereon.  Its 
harbors,  particularly  those  at  Valetta,  are  very  fine,  and 
afford  safe  anchorage  to  largest  class  ships.  The  soft 
nature  of  the  stone  which  abounds  to  a  great  extent  in 
the  island  favored  much  the  erection  of  the  giant  fortifi- 
cation— the  largest  artificial  protection  in  the  world — that 
frowns  on  all  sides  of  the  island.  As  Major  Porter  of  the 
British  army  well  says,  the  fortifications  of  Malta  are  not 
the  work  of  one  man — one  ruler  in  the  band  of  brothers 
who  made  it  their  home — but  rather  it  is  a  mighty  patch- 
work to  which  every  Grand  Master,  zealous  in  the  cause 
of  the  Order,  and  desirous  of  leaving  behind  him  some 
substantial  monument  to  perpetuate  his  name,  added  a 
patch.  Thus  it  grew  up  successively.  It  may  be  as  well 
to  mention  here  that  St.  Michael  and  St.  Elmo  were  the 
first  forts  erected  on  this  island.  Could  the  rude  rocks 
and  their  many  crannies  and  deep  indentations  into 
which  the  sea  rolls  its  incessant  thunder  speak,  what  a 
tale  could  Malta  tell — more  graphic,  thrilling,  more 
touching  and  pathetic  than  that  told  by  the  historian. 
The  cry  of  war  and  the  clash  of  steel  have  often  echoed 


86  m  \  1. 1  \. 

over  tin-  little  speck  in  the  ocean.  The  Turkish  scimitar 
has  here  reflected  the  flash  of  the  knight's  beav^  sabre; 
the  cresceni  has  waved  alongside  the  white  cross  banner 
of  the  Christian  soldiers  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem;  and 
the  shout  of  Allah  and  the  Prophet  has  been  answered  h\ 
the  Templar's  battle-crj  — "  The  one  and  the  true  God !" 

Of  course  .Malta  is  invested  with  interest  in  the  eyes 
of  historians  and  readers,  as  being  the  long  abiding-place 
and  final  resting-spol  of  thai  noble  band  of  men  who  won 
for  themselves  a  name  in  the  far-off  times  of  the  Cru- 
sade-— the  Knights  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem,  and  the 
Knights  Templars.  Here  the  white  cross  flag  waved  its 
last  time. 

.Malta  has  sustained  one  of  the  most  terrific  sieges  on 
record — that  by  brave  La  Valetta  against  the  Ottoman 
army,  headed  by  Mustapha,  in  1505,  but  which  was  ter- 
minated— although  St.  Elmo  tell,  and  with  it  every  one  of 
its  noble  defenders — b)  the  withdrawal  of  the  Turkish 
army,  and  in  the  victory  of  the  brave  Grand  Master. 
The  island  was  first  and  for  ever  lost  to  the  Older  of  St. 
John  in  L798,  when  Napoleon  Bonaparte  treacherously 
■red  the  city  of  Valetta,  which  was  not  <l<j'r,i<l*<l  <ii  <ill 
by  the  cowardly  Bempesch,  who  was  the  Grand  .Master 
at  that  time,  and.  without  a  struggle,  the  white  cross  of 
the    one    glorious    and    noble   order  was    torn    down.      It 

naed  a-  if  retributive  justice  followed  the  footsteps 
of  tic-  grasping  Napoleon,  and.  after  two  years'  sway 
mid")'  French  rulers,  Malta  was  retaken  by  the  gallant 
Nelson.     It  has  ever  since  remained  in  English  hands, 


IMPORTUNITIES    OF     GUIDES.  87 


and  the  proud  standard  of  Great  Britain  waves  now  over 
the  walls  of  St.  Angelo.     Long  may  it  float  there  ! 

It  was  with  a  good  deal  of  interest,  then,  that  we 
lounged  about  the  old  town  which  had  once  been  the 
theatre  of  such  strife,  and  it  was  with  mingled  feelings 
that  we  gazed  on  the  massive  walls  of  St.  Angelo,  and 
the  bristling  ramparts  of  the  Floriana.  The  city  of 
Valetta  is  built  mostly  on  the  hill,  at  the  summit  of  which 
stood  formerly  the  fortress  of  St.  Elmo,  which  resisted 
two  fierce  assaults  from  Mustapha's  forces  in  1565,  and 
which  fell  at  the  third  onset,  every  knight  being  stretched 
a  mangled  corpse  before  the  enemy  stood  inside  the  dearly 
defended  walls.  Thus  we  passed  the  day,  wandering 
about  and  satiating  ourselves  on  the  historic  lore  here 
afforded.  Each  one,  even  Meinherr,  giving  his  quota 
ofk  information  concerning  the  noble  order,  here  once 
supreme,  and  of  incidents  happening  in  the  history  of 
Malta. 

I  have  stood  in  many  cities  of  the  globe — in  famous 
London,  in  gay  Paris,  in  sober  Frankfort,  in  beauteous 
Florence,  in  classic  Rome,  and  in  man}^  others,  yet  never 
was  I  more  subjected  to  importunities  and  impudence 
from  guides  or  couriers  than  here.  I  have  generally  suc- 
ceeded in  Europe  in  getting  rid  of  these  bores  by  simply, 
emphatically,  and  once  for  all  declaring  that  their  services 
were  not  needed.  But  here  nothing  suffices  save  an  appeal 
to  a  policeman,  or  a  menace  with  your  cane.  From  the 
time  we  left  the  door  of  the  hotel  until  we  entered  it 
again,  late  in  the  afternoon,  we  were  surrounded  by 
guides — begged,  nay,  commanded  to  engage  their  services, 


EQU  i  I'M  BNTS. 


one  and  all!  It  was  enough  to  try  one's  temper.  .Mein- 
herr,  profoundly  Ignorant  of  wbal  they  wished,  continu- 
ally bowed  to  them,  thinking,  perhaps,  they  were  anient 
friends  of  ours.  1  informed  him  correctly  as  to  the  mat- 
ter, and  he  remarked,  quite  audibly,  "  Der  Tuyfel!"  and 
treated  them  quite  rudely  henceforth.  I  warn  all  who 
walk  as  strangers  the  streets  of  Valctta  to  provide  them- 
selves with  a  hravv  cane,  and  an  unusual  allowance  of 
patu  not . 

In  order  to  equip  ourselves  for  our  Eastern  tour,  and 
acting  in  accordance  with  the  advice  of  guide-books,  we 
repaired  to-day  to  a  gun  store.  S.  purchased  a  very 
handsome  English  double-gun,  and  all  the  accoutre- 
ments. I  look  forward  with  pleasure  to  the  time 
when  we  can  test  its  qualities  against  the  pigeons  and 
partridges  which,  we  are  told,  abound  in  the  valley  of 
Jordan.  Meinherr  bought  a  formidable-looking  knife. 
and  a  less  formidable-looking  pair  of  single-barrel  belt 
pistols;  and  I  bought  a  beautiful  knife.  I  added  this 
armory  to  my  pistol  merely  for  the  beauty  of  the  weapon, 
and  more  for  the  purpose  of  having  a  Milir.se  souvenir, 
than  with  any  idea  of  ever  wetting  if  in  Arab  blood.  God 
fend  such  an  end!  I  find  the  inhabitants  of  this 
Uy  city  are  not  a  whit  more  prompt  in  business  affairs 
than  in  other  sections  of  the  world.  I  ordered  a  strap 
for  my  pistol  and  knife  from  a  Sadler,  and  was  told  it 
should  be  done  for  "  Signore"  in  half  an  hour.  "  Sig- 
/>'>/■■"  called  ;it  the  -| x ci ii<  <1  time,  and  it  was  not  com- 
iii'ikxI.  After  three  successive  times  thai  I  had  darkened 
the  door  of  the   shop,  each    time   propounding   the   terse 


AN    EVENING     STROLL.  89 


question  —  "That  strap  done  yet?"  I  received  said 
article,  and  was  charged  exactly  double  what  I  was  told 
would  be  the  price.     I  took  care  not  to  pay  it. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we  took  dinner  at  a  miserable 
restaurant,  styling  itself  "  Hotel  Minerva."  Miserable, 
indeed,  was  the  fare;  for  fear  of  faring  worse,  we  all 
three  offered  up  a  vow  not  to  go  within  a  square  of  the 
place  again,  and  we  will  not. 

Late  this  afternoon,  or  rather  early  after  dusk,  we  took 
a  stroll  along  the  bastion  by  the  sea.  It  was  a  wild  scene  ; 
and  we  watched  long  the  beautiful  moon  hanging  over  the 
rough,  seething  sea,  while  the  spray  dashed  over  us, 
although  sheltered  by  the  thick  ramparts.  We  have  now 
returned,  have  just  partaken  of  tea  in  our  room,  and  are 
seated  snugly  around  the  glowing  grate.  I  would  fain 
think  of  those  loved  ones  far  away,  but  Meinherr  is  no 
respecter  of  such  feelings — being  "  sixteen  years  a  huzzar," 
they  are  withered  and  wilted  in  him.  He  is  preparing  to 
spin  us  a  yarn  of  a  haunted  castle  in  far-off  Deutschland, 
and,  nolens  volens,  I  must  lend  an  ear.     *     *     *     * 

Malta  Gross  Hotel,  ) 
Friday,  February  18th,  1859.  J 
At  an  early  hour,  despite  the  fact  that  we  retired  very 
late  last  night,  we  arose  this  morning.  By  we  I  mean  S. 
and  myself;  for  Meinherr  is  astir  by  the  time  it  is  fairly 
light ;  and  when  we  turn  over  for  our  first  morning  nap, 
the  good  old  fellow  is  on  his  way  to  his  church.  He  is  a 
genuine  devotee  to  his  faith,  and  has  won  much  on  my 
affections.     May  he  long  live  to  tell  his  listening  friends 


90  11  ERR    moni  \<;'s   s  roR  s 


in  his  distant  German  home,  h\  the  Black  Forest,  of  his 
adventures,  and  the  Bights  he  saw  on  this  eventful  tour. 
r>\  the  bye,  he  bold  us  rather  a  thrilling  story  lasl  night; 
the  one  he  was  about  to  commence,  when,  to  give  him 
Mii.-ntion.  I  was  obliged  to  close  my  Journal.  As  well  as 
1  could  understand  Meinherr,  speaking  altogether  in  his 
musical  Teutonic  language,  the  following  is  about  the  sub- 
stance of  his  story.  Be  it  understood.  Meinherr  was  a 
participator  in  the  mysterious  affair  of  which  he  told  us 
-.  i  gravely. 

On  the  wooded  banks  of  the  far-off  Neckar,  in  a  small 
village,  not  far  from  Heidelberg,  where  Herr  Montag  first 
siw  the  light  of  life,  was  an  old  castle,  or  rather  there 
were  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  chateau,  for  nothing  re- 
mained save  a  small  tower,  which  was  much  decayed,  a 
large  heap  of  rubbish,  and  two  flanking  walls  all  over- 
grown with  ivy,  and  looking  the  very  picture  of  decay 
and  melancholy.  Around  this  old  site,  its  tower  and  rub- 
bish, hung  many  a  terrible  tale,  and  over  the  ruins  every 
old  house-wife  in  the  village  had  woven  her  particular  tale; 
always  of  mystery  and  horror.  What  the  castle  was,  to 
whom  it  formerly  belonged,  none  knew,  as  its  present 
State  of  wreck  and  destruction  dated  hack  far  beyond  the 
mory  of  the  oldest  inhabitant.  This,  they  all  knew, 
however,  thai  from  those  ruins  on  calm  and  cold  moon- 
light nights,  or  nights  when  made  dark  by  the  overhang- 
ing curtains  of  clouds,  and  terrible  by  the  down-rushing 
rain,  and  thunder-  and  lightnings,  any  one,  curious 
enough  to  listen,  might,  al  little  expense  of  personal  con- 
venience, h«'ar  unwonted  and  supernatural  sounds;  some- 


HERR    MONTAG'S     STORY.  91 


times — particularly  on  cold,  calm  nights — there  could  be 
heard,  issuing  as  from  the  bare,  gray  stones  themselves, 
silver  tones  of  sweetest  music,  or  clear  and  liquid  laughter, 
as  from  lips  and  throats  only  angelic ;  and  on  the  crumb- 
ling battlements  of  the  ramparts  could  be  heard  the  regu- 
lar pace,  as  of  a  sentinel,  and  the  clink  of  his  musket,  as 
he  sometimes  trailed  it  after  him  over  his  stony  beat. 
But  on  dark  and  stormy  nights,  when  the  raging  ele- 
ments were  at  war, — the  wildest  and  most  unearthly 
shrieks  could  be  heard,  and  wild  gibbering  of  demoniac 
laughter  swept  about  on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  while  the 
crunching  tread  of  the  airy  sentinel,  and  the  hoarse  chal- 
lenge from  his  mysterious  throat,  could  be  distinctly 
heard.  Such  were  some  of  the  tales  rife  about  this  old 
ruin  on  the  banks  of  the  Neckar. 

It  was  drawing  near  to  Christmas,  which,  all  over 
Germany,  is  the  great  holiday  of  the  year, — and  the  busy, 
thrifty  appearance  of  the  village — the  churches  decked 
in  holly  bushes,  the  laughing  faces  of  frau  and  fraulews, 
and  the  abundance  of  good  things  and  other  articles  more 
substantial,  were  sufficient  testimony  that  the  approach- 
ing holiday  would  be  inferior,  in  gaiety,  to  none  of  its 
predecessors.  The  eventful  time  came  around — all  was 
joy,  fun,  and  hilarity,  and  the  village  rang  from  one  end 
to  the  other  with  merry  laughter  and  telling  jest.  On 
one  particular  night  of  this  festive  week,  a  large  company 
had  .uathered  in  a  good  dame's  house,  to  witness  the 
ceremony  of  marriage,  at  all  times  pleasing,  but  now, 
doubly  so,  owing  to  the  auspicious  season,  and  the  abund- 
ance of  goodly  feeling,  and,  what  is  better,  good  things 


II  l.K  b    montag's    STOB  V 


around.  But,  the  oighl  in  question  was  wild,  stormy, 
and  dark  w  ithout,  and  nought  of  the  tower  and  the  ruins, 
which  stood  quite  near  tin-  good  dame's  house,  could  be 
seen,  save  the  dim  and  broken  outline,  around  winch  the 
1  trees  -hook  their  while  arms,  and  the  wind  piped 
instrangelj  hollow  tones.  Bui  the  companj  was  large  at 
the  -ddd  mother's,  and  the  house  comfortable.  The  rain 
and  hail  and  wind  pattered  down  and  swept  by  unheeded. 
Meinherr,  then  quite  a  young  man.  was  present,  and 
enjoyed,  with  the  rest,  the  festivities  of  the  occasion. 
It  was  fast  growing  late,  and  yet  the  dancers  still  clattered 
away  to  the  twanging  notes  of  a  harp,  struck  by  a 
spy  old  harper,  and  it  seemed  as  if  nought  could  disturb 
the  joy  of  the  occasion.  Suddenly,  a  shrill  and  protracted 
unearthly  shriek  echoed  through  the  apartment,  and 
then  another  and  another — and  all  was  still.  The  room 
with  its  merry  company  was.  in  a  moment,  as  silent  as 
death.  They  all  knew — their  pale  faces  spoke  it — that 
those  demon-like  notes  came  from  the  haunted  ruin. 
The  new-made  bride  clung  to  her  swain,  who  did  not 
look  as  valiant  just  then,  as  he  often  had  on  other 
"occasions,"  not  quite  so  "trying" — the  old  harper  was 
now  wide  awake,  and  had  pushed  into  the  crowd,  as  far 
as  possible  from  the  door.  Not  many  moments  of  this 
awful  silence  lasted,  before  these  dreadful  cries  com- 
me:  in;  it  seemed  as  if  fifty  devils  were  fighting 
with  as  many  other  devils,  and  fifty  thousand  whirlwinds 
had  broken  Loose,  and  a  thousand  cannon  had  discharged 
their  thundering  content-.  The  spell  of  fear  which  had 
compelled  the  company  to  remain  still,  was  broken,  and 


iierr   montag's   story.  93 


the  crowd,  rushing  to  the  door,  beheld  a  most  terrific 
sight.  The  old  tower  and  the  decaying  and  ivy-grown 
ramparts  were  aglow  with  a  lurid  and  brilliant  light — 
every  stone  of  the  ruin  was  perfectly  distinct.  Mein- 
herr  could  well  see  the  indentations  in  the  rocky  sides  of 
the  tower.  On  the  ramparts,  human  forms  in  fantastic 
dresses  were  seen  hurrying  to  and  fro,  while  all  above  in 
mid  air,  there  seemed  to  be  some  terrible  conflict  going 
on.  This  lasted  but  a  moment,  yet  long  enough  for  all 
to  see  the  strange  sight,  when  all  at  once  a  most  un- 
earthly report  shook  the  village,  even  to  the  surrounding 
mountains.  There  was  a  sudden  propulsion  in  the  air, 
of  the  old  tower,  ruins,  and  all — then  a  heavy  crash — 
then  came  total  darkness,  and  all  was  perfectly  still,  as 
the  rain  pattered  down,  as  ever.  Next  morning,  Mein- 
herr  went  on  to  state,  he,  with  many  others,  repaired  to 
the  spot,  but  the  tower  and  flanking  walls  had  completely 
disappeared,  and  nothing  was  there  more  than  usual,  save 
a  great  number  of  tracks,  evidently  made  by  cloven  feet, 
and  a  barrel,  which  was  blackened  and  begrimed  like 
soot,  and  which  the  neighbors  concluded  had  been  the 
punch-bowl  from  which  the  bogles  had  drunk  their 
infernal  potations.  Meinherr  left  the  village  soon  after, 
and  has  never  since  been  there. 

S.  showed  some  signs  of  wonder  as  Meinherr  con- 
cluded, and  I,  to  humor  the  "  old  huzzar,"  asked  a  question 
or  two,  as  if  he  had  gained  my  credulity.  Just  then, 
I  noticed  a  peculiar  twinkle  about  the  old  fellow's  eye, 
which  showed,  plainly,  he  thought  he  had  drawn  the 
wool  over  our  eyes,  and  that  he  was  enjoying  it  hugely. 


IPPEARANC1      OF     M  \  LTA. 


We  have  Bpent  quite  a  delightful  day  in  this  good  old 
city.  Having  previously  determined  on  thai  line  of 
conduct  last  evening,  we  proceeded,  to-day,  to  hire  a 
carriage  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  something  of  the  island. 
After  much  wrangling,  offers  and  refusals,  and  accept- 
ances, Meinherr,  S..  and  self  took  our  scats  in  a  real 
comfortable  open  vehicle,  drawn  by  two  quick-footed, 
ited  grays,  and.  waving  a  temporary  adieu  to  those  al 
the  hold,  we  dashed  up  the  steep  Strada  Santa  Lucia, 
and  then  emerged  at  the  northern  gate,  into  the  country. 
A-  we  passed  out  over  the  draw-bridge,  and  left  the  last 
fortification  behind,  I  looked  back  at  the  many  defences 
of  the  city.  It  seemed  impossible  that  any  force  could 
carry  those  formidable  walls,  and  well  pleased  was  I  that 
my  olivt  branch  of  peace  was  here  more  efficacious  than 
ten  thousand  muskets.  Away  we  dashed — all  in  good 
humor,  even  to  cocker,  who  is  generally  sulky  on  happy 

:asions.     I  never  saw  better  roads  in  my  life — as  hard 
as  flint,  and.  in  many  places,  as  level  as  a  railway. 

The  island  of  Malta,  the  country  part  of  it,  presents  a 
most  singular  appearance  to  one  who  has  seen  the  inter- 
minable forests  and  equally  interminable  prairies  of  our 
western  country.  No  tree  raises  its  head  on  this  rocky 
island,  to  give  -hade  to  the  weary  or  relief  to  the  land- 
Nothing  but  white,  blistering,  glaring  rocks, 
aished,  it  may  be,  in  some  places,  with  the  scantiest 
of  shrubbery,  greets  the  eye.  And  yet  there  are  some 
spots  on  this  island,  which,  in  richness,  luxuriance,  and 
overburdening  verdure,  are  Eden-like  in  beauty.  I  refer 
to  the  gardens,  of  which   there  are  several.     I  think  that 


CITTA    VECCHIA.  95 


of  St.  Antonio,  which  was  first  visited,  one  of  the  loveliest 
spots  I  ever  beheld.  Oranges,  lemons,  and  many  other 
kinds  of  fruits  fairly  obstructed  our  way,  and  hung  about 
our  heads  in  incredible  quantities.  As  we  sauntered 
down  one  of  the  walks  in  the  garden,  it  really  seemed  to 
me  as  if  I  was  a  participator  in  some  Eastern  scene,  and 
was  perambulating  the  private  garden  of  some  grand  old 
khalif  of  Arabian  Nights  memory.  We  visited  several 
other  gardens,  all  gorgeous,  but  none  equal  to  St.  Antonio. 

We  continued  our  ride,  and  finally  drove  into  the  old 
town  of  Citta  Vecchia.  This  is  an  interesting  spot,  being 
the  first  place  torn  from  the  French  rule,  before  the 
island  finally  succumbed  to  the  British.  It  boasts  a  fine 
old  cathedral,  and  extensive  catacombs.  We  were  bored 
to  death  by  vendors  of  all  kinds  of  antique  coins,  and 
singular  souvenirs  of  the  underground  vaults.  It  required 
our  utmost  indifference  and  stolidity  to  restrain  from 
buying,  in  self-defence.  Good  man  Montag,  while  our 
backs  were  turned,  was  swindled  out  of  several  shillings. 

Near  Citta  Vecchia,  in  a  bold  bay,  which  stretches  in  a 
considerable  arc,  we  saw  the  reputed  place  of  the  Apostle 
Paul's  shipwreck.  There  is  an  immense  undertow  here, 
and  the  meeting  of  this  with  the  inward  swells  from  the 
north,  makes  a  considerable  commotion  over  the  shoals. 
This  is  what,  perhaps,  the  Apostle  meant  by  "  two  seas." 
"  And  falling  into  a  place  where  two  seas  met,  they  ran 
the  ship  aground,  and  the  forepart  struck  fast  and  re- 
mained immovable,  but  the  hinder  part  was  broken  with 
the  violence  of  the  waves"  (Acts  xxvii.  41).  From  this 
point,  a  most  beautiful  view  can  be  obtained.     The  long 


S(   in  i:    OF    ST.     I*  A  r  L'S    SB  I  l'\v  R  ECK. 


Line  of  rugged  fortifications,  the  swelling  undulations  of 
the  beach,  and  the  broad  expanse  of  watery  waste,  make 
an  agreeable  picture  It  was  on  tins  island,  and  near 
this  place  thai  St.  Paul,  having  escaped  from  the  dangers 
of  shipwreck,  came  among  the  "barbarous  people  who 
showed  u-  no  little  kindness;  for  they  kindled  a  lire  and 
received  us  every  one,  because  of  the  present  rain,  ami 
because  of  the  cold."  This  is  a  high  recommendation, 
and  one  t«>  he  trusted,  coming  as  it  does  from  such  autho- 
rity as  St.  Paul;  hut  nearly  two  thousand  years  have 
elapsed  since  that  time,  and  the  Maltese — to  their  discre- 
dit he  it  said — have  deteriorated  sadly.  This  island  then, 
according  to  our  sacred  authority,  was  called  "  Melita." 
I  notice  on  the  seal  of  the  superintendent  of  police  the 
words.  --.Melita  Renascens,"  and  the  same  motto  on  the 
fly-leaf  of  several  hooks.  Some  persons,  however,  have 
denied  that  Malta  is  the  ancient  Melita.  Among  them  is 
Lord  Lyndsay.  But  at  the  time  he  wrote  his  puling  let- 
ter-, he  was  a  mere  school-hoy,  and  wrote  it,  seemingly. 
-imply  to  differ  with  others — to  fill  up  his  sheet — or,  to 
Bay  best,  at  random;  for  he  said  that  Malta  was  not  the 
old  Melita.  and  without  giving  one  single  reason  for  it. 
Such  authority  doe-  not  go  far  with  me.  I  look  upon 
Mr.  Murray's  guide-books  as  better  authority  on  travel, 
ami  what  is  to  he  seen,  than  any  others  extant.  He 
agrees  with  the  majority,  and  calls  Malta  the  old  Melita, 
in  his  work  on  ••Southern  Italy  and  Malta." 

After  a  mosl  plea-ant.  and  it  is  to  be  hoped,  in- 
structive ride  to  all  of  us,  we  returned  leisurely  at  a 
late    hour    in    the    afternoon.      I    don't    believe    I   ever 


ENGLISH     SOLDIERS.  97 


enjoyed  a  more  pleasant  two  hours  than  I  did  this 
afternoon,  as  we  rode  along  the  bold  indentations  of  the 
rugged  coast.  As  we  approached  the  large  open  space, 
near  the  Floriana,  we  saw  a  body  of  English  soldiers  on 
drill.  Having  a  desire  to  witness  the  evolutions  of  these 
men,  against  whose  ancestors  our  grandfathers  perhaps 
fought  for  the  precious  boon  of  liberty,  we  ordered  the 
coachman  to  stop  his  breakneck  pace.  We  watched  the 
manoeuvres  with  much  interest  for  over  an  hour.  I  can 
scarcely  make  up  my  estimate  of  a  British  soldier.  I 
came  to  this  conclusion,  that  they  are  inferior  to  Austrian 
or  French.  They  do  not  appear  so  martial,  by  any  means, 
as  the  Austrian  particularly,  and  their  evolutions  compared 
to  the  Gent  Garde,  or  even  the  common  light  infantry  at 
Paris,  were  really  clumsy.  We  finally  returned  to  the 
hotel,  and  all  agreeing  to  it,  we  took  a  long  stroll.  We 
saw  the  church  of  San  Giovanni,  or  St.  John,  where  the 
tombs  of  four  hundred  knights  form  one  of  the  finest 
floors  in  existence,  and,  where  many  grand  masters, 
among  them  La  Valetta,  repose  in  the  silence  and  sanctity 
of  death — but  of  this  splendid  edifice,  more  anon.  I  have 
not  seen  it,  save  the  exterior,  thoroughly  as  yet.  S. 
purchased  a  hat,  and  looks  not  at  all  improved  by  it.  We 
partook  of  a  hearty  dinner,  at  which  we  had  much  fun  at 
Meinherr's  expense. 

It  is  now  dark,  and  we  are  snugly  seated  around  a 
grateful  fire,  and  are  enjoying  a  good  laugh — Meinherr,  as 
usual,  being  the  exciting  cause.  The  good  "  huzzar"  was 
seated  very  comfortably  just  now,  by  the  grate,  and  the 
silent  twirling  of  his   moustache,  and   the  upward   and 


A    CRASH. 

gentle  expression  of  his  clear  graj  eyes,  showed  well  thai 
his  thoughts  wore  engaged  most  pleasantly  in  wandering 
back  to  bis  mountain  home.  S.  had  warned  the  old 
fellow  of  the  uncertain  foundation  on  which  he  was  seated. 
for  the  old  chair  had  evidently  borne  the  brunl  <>f  many 
years'  hard  usage,  and  now  Bhowed  manifest  infirmity 
of  ripening  age.  An  unguarded  twist  to  make  himself 
more  comfortable,  unequally  distributed  Meinherr's  heavy 
weight.  Result — a  quick  crash,  and  some  confusion,  in 
the  midst  of  which  Meinherr's  large  hoot  was  conspicu- 
ously elevated  high  above  surrounding  objects.  "Ach! 
an  in  QoUT  was  all  he  said,  as  he  good-naturedly 
recovered  himself  and  looked  around.  S.  being  a  sort  of 
workman,  has  taken  upon  himself  the  responsibility  of 
mending  said  chair,  and  is  now  busily  engaged  in  sef/i/i;/ 
the  broken  limb,  though  he  much  fears,  he  avers — -false- 
joint  *  :i:  *  *  :::  :::  *  *  *  * 
Finally  S.  has  finished,  and  order  once  more  reigns; 

though  S.  insists  on  telling  some  stories,  which  in  vivid- 

i 

36  excel  even  Meinherr's  of  last  evening.  S.,  however, 
is  in  dead  earnest,  and  vouches  most  sacredly  for  the 
truth  of  what  he  says.  II<-  has  just  commenced  a  thrill- 
ing narrative  of  personal  experience  relative  to  ghosts. 
whether  in  rivalry  to  Meinherr's  Haunted  Castle,  I  can- 
not say.  yet  he  positively  asserts  that  every  word  is  true; 
and  knowing  his  character  for  veracity,  and  his  contempt 
for  believers  in  witches  and  bogles,  I  must  say  his  story 
ickfi  strongly  of  the  marvellous — so  strongly  and 
Btrangely,  indeed,  that  I  now  lay  aside  my  journal  to 
listen 


A     RACE     AFTER     A    HAT.  99 


An  hour  has  elapsed,  and  S.  has  finished.  Truly  mar- 
vellous and  intensely  thrilling !  I  am  sure  I  will  dream 
to-night  of  all  kinds  of  ghosts. 

Malta  Cross  Hotel.  "| 
Saturday,  February  19th,  1859.  J 

We  arose  quite  late  this  morning,  and  slowly  and  in 
silence  took  our  way  to  the  breakfast-hall,  where  we  as 
slowly  and  as  silently  despatched  our  meal.  Not  even 
the  appearance  of  good  John  Montag  minus  his  hat,  which 
the  wind  had  taken  from  him  on  his  way  from  church, 
could  enliven  us.  I  could  not  help  thinking  of  S.'s  re- 
markable vision,  of  which  he  told  us  the  previous  even- 
ing ;  and  the  sad  recollections  of  the  event  clouded  his 
brain.  But  the  cloud  gradually  wore  off;  and  Meinherr, 
who  had  not  understood  one  word  of  the  narrative,  con- 
tributed to  our  amusement  by  telling  of  his  downhill  race 
after  his  treacherous  hat,  the  last  of  which  he  saw  when 
it  was  high  in  the  air,  performing  several  somersaults  over 
the  bastions  near  the  landing-place.  Its  probable  fate 
was — "drowned  at  sea."  If  I  don't  forget  it,  I  will  re- 
cord the  remarkable  sightseeing  of  which  S.  was  guilty, 
in  some  future  journal,  when  I  feel  more  like  writing  than 
just  now.  It  is  good  enough  to  keep,  and,  with  some 
slight  varnishing,  might  create  a  sensation  in  print. 

I  wrote  several  letters  to-day  to  the  dear  ones  at  home, 
and,  among  them,  one  to  my  mother.  Mother !  how  sin- 
gularly charming  does  that  word  break  on  my  ear !  Sin- 
gular the  emotions  created  by  that  one  word  breathed  in 
your  presence !     Go  where  you  will,  be  surrounded  by 


LOO  M  \  LTESE     M  \  \  I    FAC  i T  RES. 


whatever  company  you  may,  the  heart  still  throbs  with  a 
kinder  beat,  as  that  holy  oame  recalls  to  you  your  boy- 
hood's bowers,  among  which,  in  days  "lang  syne,"  you 
used  to  dream  awaj  your  happy  existence,  unrecking  of 
the  sterner  realities  of  manhood,  on  whose  verge  you  then 
stood.  Many,  very  many  things  bave  I  forgotten,  yet  my 
heart  will  be  callous  indeed,  when  I  forget  the  sainted 
image  of  her  who  gave  me  birth. 

We  walked  over  the  town  a  good  deal  to-day,  and  exa- 
mined particularly  the  shops  where  the  Maltese  lace  is 
manufactured.  I  purchased  some  at  a  triile,  compared  to 
the  price  for  the  same  in  America.  Almost  every  house  in 
Valetta  has  this  lace  for  sale.  I  was  particularly  struck 
with  the  gold  and  silver  filagree  work,  of  which  we  see 
here  a  great  quantity.  Some  of  the  most  intricate  little 
contrivances  mad"  from  these  metals,  formed  into  chains. 
brooches,  pendants,  &c,  are  presented  to  your  gaze. 
Some  so  delicate  and  tiny  that  the  meshes,  contorted  in 
ten  thousand  different  manners,  are  just  perceptible.  The 
favorite  form  into  which  this  particular  kind  of  work  is 
made  is  the  Maltese-cross.  Some  of  the  shawl-pins,  pen- 
dant-. &c.,  are  really  superb.  We  see  much  fine  coral, 
also,  some  lava,  and  some  singular-looking  and  rather 
shallow  cameos.  Yet  the  shell  is  very  pretty,  having  the 
rich,  velvety  appearance  indicative  of  a  genuine  cameo. 
Strange  to  say,  these  cameos  are  all  mounted  in  silver, 
or  argent  dore  (silver  gilt),  showing  conclusively  that 
they  are  not  in  much  demand.  There  are  several  other 
kinds  of  bijouterie,  but  none  of  much  importance. 

In  wandering  about  to-day,  endeavoring  to  -'drive  dull 


THOUGHTS    OF     HOME.  101 


care  away,"  we  partook  of  an  iced  sherbet;  and  really,  it 
was  so  good,  and  so  refreshing,  that  it  deserves  a  mention 
in  my  journal.  It  seems  rather  strange  to  be  speaking 
of  sherbet,  and  that  iced,  and  it  is  now  one  of  our  coldest 
winter  months ;  yet,  so  it  is ;  and  it  was  with  genuine 
surprise,  on  yesterday,  I  beheld  and  ate  a  fine  cantelope 
at  our  hotel.  Before  the  summer  of  the  present  year 
wanes,  I  hope  to  eat  cantelopes  in  my  own  dear  home  in 
the  West.  Meinherr's  eyes  sparkled  with  pleasure  as  he 
leisurely  sipped  the  cooling  compound,  and  his  speedy 
demand  to  be  replenished  was  proof  positive  he  was  satis- 
fied with  the  mixture.     And  so  the  day  wore  on  apace. 

Malta  Cross  Hotel.  | 
Sunday,  February  20th,  1859.  J 
This,  the  Lord's  day,  has  at  length  dragged  its  slow 
length  away.  I  say  dragged,  because  I  have  been  racked 
throughout  the  last  twenty-four  hours  with  bodily  pain, 
which  has  been  sufficient  to  cloud  my  mind  also,  and 
make  me  think  too  much  and  too  fondly — for  my  peace 
of  mind — of  those  dear  ones  in  America.  But  as  I  had 
nothing  to  do,  not  being  able  even  to  go  to  church,  I  was 
compelled  to  let  my  imagination  "  unfettered"  run  riot. 
And  sad  havoc  it  has  played  with  my  feelings.  More 
than  seven  years  have  sped  their  unseen  way  to  the 
shades  of  the  past  since  I  could  fairly  say  I  was  home- 
sick :  yet  to-day  that  word  does  not  give  the  full  force  of 
that  intense  yearning,  I  have  experienced  in  the  last  few 
hours  for  home.  It  is  simply  because  I  cannot  occupy  my 
mind.     To-morrow  it  will  be  gone,  and  its  existence  will 


L02  A    SA  l  N  PER. 

cot  even  find  a  place  in  my  memory.  Bui  as  the  sound 
of  Sabbath  bells  comes  faintly  through  my  closed  door, 
and  echoes  gently  on  my  ear,  1  cannot  ward  off  the  Bad- 
uess  which  Bteals  over  me  on  this  bleak  and  raw  eve  oi 
February.  1  have  heard  the  sound  of  these  Bacred  bells 
in  main  a  city  of  the  world,  but  now  1  suppose  I  bid 
farewell  to  all  for  a  time.  Whither  1  now  go,  the  Chris- 
tian tocsin  is  drowned  by  the  Muzzim  cry,  and  the  fol- 
lowers of  Mahomet  and  a  second  Messiah  crush  out  the 
devotees  of  Jesus,  the  Bethlehemite. 

Day  after  to-morrow  is  our  last,  for  the  time,  in  Malta. 
and  then  again  we  trust  our  lives  to  the  dangers  of  the 
deep.  1  wish  the  day  was  here;  vet,  to-day,  late  in 
ih<-    afternoon,    for   exercise,    1    sauntered  down   to   the 

-hore;  and.  as  I  stood  on  the  frowning  bastions,  and 
gazed  far  out  over  the  rolling  waters,  it  was  rather  a  chill- 
Lng  feeling  that  crept  over  me  as  1  remembered  how  many 
miles  oi'  briny  danger  I  would  have  to  cross  and  re-cross 
before  I  Btood  hen-  again.  I  returned  late,  and  found  Mr. 
G.  of  Texas   in  my  room,  who  came  to  return  my  guide- 

iks.  From  conversation  I  learn  G.  was  a  West  Point 
Cadet,  and  was  a  classmate  with  my  brother-in-law. 
Singular  how  we  meet  and  make  acquaintances! 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Malta  Cross  Hotel.  1 
Monday,  February  21st,  1859.  J 
?WO  months  ago  to-day  we  left  the  Chemin-de-fer 
du  Nord,  in  far-off  Paris,  en  route  towards  the 
seat  of  "  Belgium's  Capital."  How  much  have 
we  seen,  learned,  forgotten,  and  admired,  since  that 
eventful  afternoon,  when,  port-habits  in  hand,  we  stood 
in  the  gare,  and  bought  our  billets,  which  would  insure 
our  passage  to  Brussels,  while  we  turned  our  backs  on 
Napoleon's  fair  capital,  which  had  so  long  afforded  us  a 
gay  and  happy  student-home  !  Since  our  nostrils  breathed 
the  air  of  the  Boulevards  and  the  Faubourg  St.  Honore, 
our  feet  have  wandered  over  the  field  of  Waterloo,  where 
was  fought  the  Battle  of  Nations  ;  we  have  coursed  the 
Rhine  from  mouth  to  source ;  have  delved  through  the 
rocky  glens  of  Switzerland ;  have  glided  over  the  placid 
waters  of  Lac  Leman ;  have  overcome  Mt.  Cenis's  frozen 
summit ;  have  laughed  away  our  cares  and  troubles 
through  Piedmont's  sunny  plains ;  have  shot  over  the 
water  streets,  and  stood  on  the  Bridge  of  Sighs  in  silent 
Venice ;  have  loitered  blissfully  in  the  Pitti  palace  at 
Florence ;  have  roamed  by  moonlight  tne  once-bloody 
arena  of  Rome's  grand  old  Coliseum ;  have  written  our 

(103) 


HI  ANTICIPATION     AND    R  E  A  Li  r  v. 


names  on  Tiber's  yellow  sand;  have  climbed  Vesuvius's 
ed  sides;  trod  through  the  exhumed  streets  of  long- 
buried  Pompeii ;  stood  in  the  underground  chambers 
of  Herculaneum's  once  thriving  town — and  this  day,  we 
stand  in  British  Malta,  far  away!  It  is  pleasant, ye1  un- 
pleasant,  to  note  the  changes  in  life,  and  in  the  condition 
dt'  men,  wroughl  by  the  fickle  hand  of  time.  Pleasing 
to  recall  the  brighl  associations  which  cluster  in  brilliant 
cohorts  over  our  back-wandering  brain,  and  make'  our 
minds  happj  now  in  the  recollection,  as  then  in  reality: 
unpleasant  when  we  shake  off  the  sweet  dreaming  of  the 
hour,  and  recollect  those  joys  are  gone  forever — that  we 
are  left  to  eke  out  our  allotted  existence — that  we  are 
but  driving  Fancy's  shining  car — that  we  are  but  work- 
horses in  the  present  race-course  of  life.  The  question, 
often  disputed,  whether  in  anticipation  or  reality  exists 
most   pleasure,  has  many  times,  almost  unwittingly,  too, 

i  discussed  in  my  mind.  It  is  true,  the  realization  of 
Borne  long-cherished  object  affords  joy  of  a  grade  some- 
times almost  ethereal,  and  the  ecstasy  its  final  achieve- 
ment and  glorious  accomplishment  generates,  can  scarcely 

equalled  by  any  other  emotion  of  the  mind.      How 

et  the  thoughts  arise  over  my  soul  in  this  spot,  far 
away  from  my  own  sod — thoughts  which  rush  over 
my  thinking  being,  like  the  trooping  sweep  of  giant 
winds — thoughts  of  my  own  dear  home,  and  its  dearer 
inmate-,  far  "  o'er  the  lea,"  toward  the  red  sunset !  Sweet, 
indeed,  the  anticipation  of  my  distant  meeting  with  friends 
and  kinsmen,  and  sweeter  yet   may  he  the  time  when  I 

in  those  loved  ones  to  my  exiled  bosom,,  and  breathe 


ANTICIPATION     AND     REALITY.  105 


in  their  ears  words  of  steadfast  affection.  Bat  there  can  be 
no  doubt,  but  that  the  picture,  our  recalling  memory  paints, 
and  hangs  up  in  the  halls  of  imagination — of  bright  things 
dead,  almost  forgotten — of  bright  things  rendered  still 
brighter  by  the  magic  touch  of  association's  wand — in 
point  of  v/nchanging  beaut}-  and  interest,  charms  our  souls 
the  longest,  and  affords  the  richest  enjoyment  of  which 
the  mind  and  soul,  and  senses  are  capable.  Years  ago — 
not  any  great  many,  it  is  true,  but  enough  to  warrant  the 
expression — when  I  wandered  amid  the  bowers  of  my 
happy  boyhood,  how  sad  the  feeling  which  clouded  my 
whole  being,  when  the  word  college  was  pronounced  in 
my  hearing !  No  joyous  emotions  coursed  through  me 
then,  and  no  anticipated  joys  lessened  the  pang  of  parting 
with  those  at  home.  The  bright  associations  of  childhood 
and  riper  boyhood  flashed  in  a  million  of  gorgeous  rays 
through  my  mind,  and  it  was  with  heartfelt  reluctance  I 
stretched  forth  my  backward  hand  to  give  and  take  the 
farewell  grasp — that  hand  which  in  this  unwilling  act 
was  the  first  to  strike  at  the  root  of  that  youthful  tree, 
on  whose  branches  clustered  the  joys  and  follies  of  boy- 
hood. And  heavy  was  my  step  which  trod  away  from 
home,  and  heavier  the  heart  which  sighed  "o'er  and 
oft"  "  for  joys  that  we've  tasted."  And  yet,  changed  is 
the  picture  in  the  halls  of  my  memory.  The  bright, 
ever  bright  images  of  my  college  life,  which  float  and 
flicker  like  will-o'-wisps  through  some  long,  dark  vista,  flash 
into  light,  and  by  their  flash  envelope  themselves  in  a 
darkness  ten  times  more  impenetrable  than  before.  Ay, 
well  do  I  remember  those  loved  forms !  some  are  now  in 


L06  r  ii  E    i'A  sspo  R  r    sv  s  r  i.  \i. 

high  walk--  ni"  life,  honored  and  known  among  men; 
others  are  tenants  of  the  Last  long  home.  5Tet  with  what 
u  melancholy  and  sad.  vet  doublj  Bweet  pleasure,  1  think, 
mi  this  cold  eve  in  stinging  February,  in  .Malta's  rocky 
Limits,  do  1  recall  each  and  everj  incident,  accident,  and 
event  which  marked  my  educational  course  in  the  halls 
of  my  dear  old  Alma  Mater!  1  mvst  lav  aside  my  pen. 
and  thinh\      :i:  :;:      :;:     * 

Well — two  mouths  ago  to-day,  and  I  stood  in  Paris, 
a  trusty  friend  on  either  hand.  One  loiters  now  amid 
the  deep  glens  of  Sicily,  and  listens  with  pleasure  to  the 
thrilling  wind  of  Calabrian  horn; — the  other,  ere  this, 
dashes  his  watery  course  towards  the  far-off  west,  towards 
Columbia's  boast,  and  every  freeman's  pride.  I,  am  here, 
and  sad  \i\\  heart  too,  as  I  think  of  the  French  capil 
the  lading  form  of  the  noble  Plad  de  la  Concorde,  the 
spreading  avenues  and  groves  of  the  Champs  ElysSes,  and 
the  dark  walls  and  turrets  of  frowning  Notre  Dame.  Well 
— two  months  will  yet  wing  their  numbered  days  to  uns< 
shades,  before  my  foot  treads  again  amid  the  tramp  and 
hustle  of  Parisian  life — and  SO  it  must  be — and  so  I  am 
content  it  is. 

Among  other  things  our  present  party  arranged  to- 
day, was  our  passports,  allowing  us  passage  on  the 
French  steamer,  and  permitting  us  to  pass  unmolested. 
in  the  different  port- of  the  Levant.  It  is  an  arbitrary 
arrangement,  this  passport  system,  I  think,  for  several 
reasons,  especially  as  regards  their  nice  viseevng,  as  is 
required  in  the  French  steamers'  Bervice.  This  strict 
surveillance  owex  passports,  is  not  local, — in  Genoa  the  law 


THE     PASSPORT     SYSTEM.  107 


is  the  same  as  in  Malta,  and  it  is  as  rigid  throughout  the 
many  ports  on  the  Italian  coast,  as  in  the  above- 
mentioned  localities.  Of  course  they  have  reasons — the 
managers  of  the  company — for  this  scrutinizing  vigilance, 
yet  I  have  made  inquiries,  and  many,  from  English, 
Americans,  Italians,  Germans,  and  French,  for  the  reasons 
for  this  procedure,  and  I  was  never  able  to  learn  a 
plausible  and  truthful  iohy.  You  cannot  enter  a  French 
steamer  bound  for  any  port  in  the  Mediterranean  Sea, 
unless  your  passport  is  first  signed  by  nearly  every  official 
in  the  town,  and  before  that  passport  is  accredited  and 
deposited  aboard,  the  ship ; — and  you  cannot  purchase 
your  ticket  without  your  passport;  at  least  this  is 
the  fact,  in  Valetta,  island  of  Malta,  in  the  office 
of  the  Messageries  Imperiales.  Persons  forewarned  of 
these  troubles,  generally  imagine  themselves  forearmed 
— an  error  of  the  most  egregious  type,  and  one  into  which 
I  fell,  throughout  all  my  journeyings  on  the  Continent, 
in  Asia,  and  in  Africa.  Passports,  then,  I  record  in  this 
Journal,  present  the  embodied  form  of  a  European  tourist's 
nuisance — a  nuisance  with  which,  thank  God,  we  do  not 
suffer  in  America,  and  one  to  which,  thank  God,  we 
would  not  submit. 

Well,  I  have  spent  a  page  on  passports,  but  I  like  to 
record  my  troubles,  and  my  ideas  about  troubles,  so  that, 
perhaps,  by  a  reference  to  these  hastily  written  pages,  in 
some  unborn  year,  I  may  post  a  friend  on  some  of  the 
difficulties  which  beset  his  path  while  strolling  amid  the 
flowery  fields  and  glacier  peaks  of  Continental  Europe. 

I   was   much  struck,   as    I   quite  modestly  asked    my 


\     CIVIL     POLICEMAN. 


passport  of  the  Superintendent  of  Police,  with  the 
rudeness  with  which  he  conducted  himself  towards 
me  particularly,  and  towards  m\  part}  generally.  The 
contrast  to  the  polite  and  efficient  French  officer  in 
the  Prefectwn  d<  fblia  in  Paris,  was  painful.  I  could 
scarcely  brook  the  official's  insolence,  and  S.  strove 
not  to  curh  down  the  spread  eagle  spirit  of  Republi- 
canism which  burnt  in  his  soul.  Englishmen  arc  as 
different  in  manners  and  civility,  as  arc  the  varied  trees 
of  the  varied  forest,  which  spread  over  nature's  ample 
face.  By  *<<//"  Englishman  1  have  been  treated  with  a 
condescending  respect,  and  a  genuine  politeness,  which 
very  few  Frenchmen  have  shown  me.  I  well  remember 
once,  when  strolling — a  perfect  stranger — over  the  little 
fairy  bridge  which  spans  a  silver  thread  of  water  in  St. 
James's  Square  in  mighty  London.  That  time  is  rendered 
bright  by  the  burly  form  of  a  <jciiiiin<-linirh'<l  policeman 
— one  of  nature's  own  nobleman — who  saw  my  embarrass- 
ment and  lack  of  knowledge,  so  essential  to  sight-seeing, 
and  kindly  offered  and  asked, — himself  to  become  my 
cicerone — and  a  most  excellent  one  he  was.  Long  shall  I 
remember  him;  yet,   "for  a'   that,"   these  cases  are  but 

■ptions  to  a  rule, — a  rule  which  I  found  to  be  generally 
true,  viz.,  that  Englishmen  will  not  "put  themselves  out 
of  the  way"  for  any  one's  comfort,  save  their  own,  and 
that  they  arc,  in  other  words — decidedly,  as  a  nation — 
uncivil. 

We  left  the  police-office,  then,  in  great  disgust — S.  and 
myself  in  high  dudgeon,  good  John  Montag  being  most 

iouslj  ignorant  of  our  zunge,  was  most  effectually 
indifferent  about  the  cause  which  raised  a  flame  in  ouv 


AN     AMERICAN.  K)9 


minds.  Next,  we  went  to  the  office  of  the  Messageries 
ImpSriales,  just  off  the  Strada  Santa  Lucia.  What  a 
difference  did  the  sleek-tongued  Frenchman  present  ! 
We  gained  our  necessary  information  in  regard  to  the 
next  boat  for  Alexandria  and  Jaffa,  and  the  port  laws  of 
quarantine,  &c.  Our  next  visit  was  to  our  consul — and 
this  was  the  pleasant  climax  to  our  calls  this  morning. 
It  was  the  most  natural  and  most  whole-souled,  most 
American  affair,  of  the  day.  Right  cordially  did  our 
noble-hearted  representative  welcome  us,  and  gave  us  to 
understand  that  he  was  a  genuine  American,  in  name,  in 
family,  and  in  feelings.  He  is  from  Boston,  and  claims 
as  his  grandfather,  the  gallant  fellow  who  headed  the 
Boston  "  tea-party,"  in  those  days  of  trial  and  trouble  to 
our  gallant  forefathers.  William  Winthrop  is  that  man's 
worthy  grandson,  and,  I  am  sure,  would  as  willingly,  in 
this,  our  Republican  noon-day  of  glory  and  power,  head 
another  "tea-party,"  to  crush  out  despotism  and  unjust 
taxation  from  our  land. 

We  saw  Mr.  G.,  of  Texas,  again,  late  in  the  afternoon, 
and  took  occasion  to  say  "good-bye,"  once  more.  Mr.  G. 
sailed  for  Alexandria,  this  afternoon,  in  the  English 
steamer  Para.  Our  party  had,  originally,  purchased 
tickets  by  the  French  line,  in  Naples,  which  tickets  were 
good  to  Jaffa,  else  we  would  have  embraced  the  opportunity, 
and  gone  by  the  English  steamer  also.  I  wish  Mr.  G.  and 
family  a  happy  and  prosperous  ending  to  their  travels. 

Late  this  afternoon,  when  the  sinking  sun,  as  if  shield- 
ing himself  from  the  stinging  blasts  which  flew  through 
the  streets,  suddenly  hid  himself  behind  a  large,  heavy 


1  10  A     PLE  \  S  A  N  I     STROLL. 


cloud  in  the  west,  I  strolled  down  to  the  battlemenl 
shores,  and  there,  in  the  thunder  of  the  breaking  Bpray, 
and  in  the  music  ol'  the  passing  wind.  1  thought,  Long 
and  fondly,  of  home.     k>  Then  ienoplact  lih  home!" 


Malta  <  '/os.s  Hotel, 
Tuesday,  February 


'  Vo.s.s  Hotel,  ) 
22d,  L859.  ( 


Washington's  birthday  lias  passed,  and  1  have  spent  it 
in  this  far-off  island,  in  the  "  Miltel  Meer."  Quite  agree- 
ably,  too,  have  the  hours  flown  by. 

We  enjoyed,  this  morning,  a  most  pleasant  stroll 
beyond   the  northern   gate,  toward  the  public  gardens. 

id  John  Mon tag  and  S.  enlivened  the  time,  as  usual — 
Montag  by  committing  several  laughable  blunders  among 
the  soldiers  on  the  walls,  and  S.  by  relating  many  anec- 
dotes of  his  life,  and  recounting  a  number  of  wild  legends, 
with  which  his  brain  seems  stocked.  We  have  made  the 
agreement  among  ourselves,  or  rather,  we  made  the 
arrangement  in  Naples,  that  we  would,  each  in  turn, 
tell  during  the  long,  dull  nights  which  we  have  to  endure 
on  this,  our  memorable  trip,  some  incident  of  his  own  life, 
or  some  tale  or  legend  with  which  he  has  become  ac- 
quainted. Several  have  been,  in  turn,  already  related, 
among  them,  good  John  Montag's  ghost  story,  which  I 
translated,  and  recorded  several  evenings  ago.  Hence- 
forth. I  shall  record  them,  in  substance,  when  they  are 
told.  We  find,  that  by  this  procedure,  our  long  evenings 
too  shorty  that  they  are  gone  before  the  brave 
"huzzar"  gets  to  the  second  part  of  his  thrilling  story,  or 
S.   concludes    from    which   to  choose,   among  his 


A     GHOST    STORY.  Ill 


many  tales  of  haunts  and  hair-breadth  escapes.  While  in 
this  connection,  I  will  record,  briefly,  S.'s  remarkable 
sight-seeing,  to  which  I  referred  several  days  since.  It  is 
a  narrative  of  personal  experience,  and  perhaps  S.  may 
have  some  objections  to  my  recording  it ;  but,  as  I  do  it 
simply  to  gratify  my  own  desire,  I  hope  S.  will  not 
take  umbrage,  if,  should  I  be  so  fortunate  as  to  have 
my  Journal  "  printed,"  he  should  see  his  haunted  story 
in  type.  S.  hails  from  Savannah,  a  sunny  city  of  the 
sunny  South. 

On  one  afternoon,  toward  the  coming  death  of  the  fast- 
sinking  sun,  he,  with  several  others,  took  a  stroll  towards 
the  outskirts  of  the  town.  Their  steps  gradually  and 
imperceptibly  led  them  near  the  city  cemetery.  In  this 
cemetery  was  buried  S.'s  oldest  brother.  "  As  our  party 
approached  the  burying-ground,"  continued  S.,  "  I  chanced 
to  look  towards  the  last  resting-spot  of  my  lamented 
brother, — and,  did  my  eyes  deceive  me,  or  was  I  dream- 
ing !  There,  before  my  eyes,  as  plain  as  the  setting  sun, 
stood  the  form  of  my  deceased  brother !  I  stopped — 
spell-bound — at  the  sight.  We  were  not  thirty  yards  from 
the  apparition,  and  there  could  be  no  mistaking  the 
figure  and  features ;  they  were  those  of  my  brother,  and 
were  as  fresh  to  my  mind  as  if  I  had  seen  him  but 
yesterday.  In  compliance  with  my  frenzied  action,  my 
party  gazed  in  the  direction  I  indicated,  but,  alas !  saw 
nothing — for,  just  as  I  called  their  attention  to  the 
remarkable  appearance,  the  spectre  disappeared  from  my 
gaze,  and  sank  into  the  grave.  I  knew  I  was  not  mis- 
taken.    I  was  compelled  to  believe  my  own  eyes.     I  was 


I  l'J  A.    GHOST    STORY. 


an  unbeliever  in  ghosts,  and  now  abhor  the  very  idea — 
yet  that  one  instance  is  an  exception  i<>  the  general 
rule,  and  it  does  nol  serve  to  strengthen  my  opinion 
antagonistic  to  ghosts.  My  companions  laughed  at  me, 
and  said  my  imagination  was  at  fault;  thai  fancy  had 
painted  the  unburied  form  of  mj  brother,  before  my 
gaze;  but  1  believed  my  own  eyes  yet,  and  persuaded 
them  to  consent  bo  accompany  me  to  the  same  spot,  at 
the  same  hour  on  the  following  day.  Sure  enough,  about 
the  same  hour  the  next  afternoon,  we  slowly,  and  rather 
solemnly,  too,  started  on  the  prearranged  ghostly  prome- 
nade. As  we  drew  near  t  .e  sombre-looking  and  deeply 
shaded  cemetery,  many  threw  an  uneasy  glance  toward  the 
white  -rave-stones.  1  was  the  only  one  at  all  composed. 
I  was  composed,  because  1  had  formed  the  resolution  in 
my  mind,  to  meet  the  spirit ;  and  1  was  confident  we 
n-i.nhl  see  the  vision.  How  thrilled  my  heart,  then, 
when  a  sudden  cry  from  one  of  my  companions  burst  on 
my  ear — •  My  God  !  boys,  yonder  stands  the  haunt!'  I 
look.-d.  and  in  the  deepening  shade  1  saw  the  self-same 
spectre,  standing  in  the  same  position,  on  the  same  spot, 
motionless  as  marble,  and  gazing  steadfastly  at  our 
approaching  figures.  Awe-struck  and  pervaded  with 
rising  fear,  the  young  men  gradually  halted,  though 
never  removing  their  gaze,  which  was  riveted  on  the 
supernatural  object.  1  advanced  alone — determined  to 
for  myself — to  satisfy  my  own  mind.  Nearer  and 
nearer  1  approached — ten  yards  only  intervened — and  on 
1  Btrode.  The  face  was  bloodless,  the  lips  white — the 
-  natural,  and  fastened  on  me — the  whole  person  was 


A    GHOST     STORY.  113 


enveloped  in  a  seamless  garment  of  brown  stuff,  which 
floated  and  fluttered  as  the  gossamer  web  in  the  summer 
breeze — further  I  did  not  observe.  Nearer  and  nearer  I 
approached,  and  now  the  length  of  the  grave  alone 
separated  us.  I  stopped — my  breath  came  quick  and 
hurried — my  respiration  was  checked,  and  my  heart's 
circulation  seemed  to  cease  its  current.  I  inhaled  a  long 
breath,  and  cried  '  Brother  !'  How  quick  sweeps  the 
wintry  gust  over  the  plain — how  suddenly,  oft,  is  heaven's 
fair  face  changed !  Like  a  flash  of  sunlight  bursting 
through  a  cloud,  glancing  a  moment  on  the  eye,  and 
plunging  away  to  *  outer  darkness' — so  flashed  this  spec- 
tral form  from  my  sight,  and  no  foot-track  or  bruised 
blade  of  grass  told  of  the  presence  of  the  spirit. 

"  Many  a  time,  on  winter's  night,  and  summer's  eve, 
have  I  since  repaired  to  that  sacred  spot,  where  such  a 
vision  had  more  than  once  burst  upon  my  view ;  but 
never  again  did  the  spectre  appear.  I  don't  believe  in 
ghosts — I  cannot ;  yet  that  one  instance  is  a  host  in  itself  to 
battle  down  one's  unbelief.  There  are  many  now  living 
in  my  native  city  in  America,  who  can  vouch  for  this. 
It  was  '  passing  strange,'  to  say  the  least." 

And  such,  as  near  as  I  can  record,  was  the  substance 
of  S.'s  remarkable  story.  Meinherr,  whom  I  had  by  dint 
of  hard  labor  kept  posted,  by  my  miserable  translation, 
was  inclined  to  raise  his  martial  eyebrows  in  discredit  of 
the  story ;  but  one  look  at  S.'s  open  nice  restrained  him ; 
that  look,  however,  could  not  restrain  his  usual  expression 
"  Ach  !  mein  Gott !" 


1  I  \  BE  I  I  EF     l  N     G  HOSTS. 

In  regard  to  this  subject,  as  in  regard  to  <-\<t\  other 
which  vexes  man's  mind,  and  to  which  there  are  t\\<>  sides. 
people  of  tins  world  may  be  ranked  in  two  grand  divisions, 
believers  in  ghosts,  and  unbelievers  in  ghosts,     li  is  difficult 

aaj  which  division  possesses  the  greater  number.  I 
mean,  of  course,  these  divisions  as  existing  in  the  ( •hristiam 
world.  In  unenlightened  and  uncivilized  parts  of  earth- 
dom,  where  unseen  agents  are  worshipped  as  gods,  and  the 
spirit  of  the  wind  is  prayed  to,  by  many  earnest  devotees, 
it  is  useless  to  -a\  thai  the  In  Hirers  preponderate.  And  I 
think  I  would  not  err  materially,  it'  I  stated  that  in  the 
Christian  world,  believers  in  spiritual  manifestations,  in 
ghosts,  witches,  bogles,  and  supernatural  agencies  gene- 
rally, far  outnumber  those  whose  lives  and  souls  are 
not  enveloped  in  rappings,  signs,  and  manifestations  and 
wdio  do  not  afflict  themselves  with  had  luck  and  untold 
evils,  because  they  chance  unwarily  to  step  over  a 
broom,  or  give  a  knift  to  a  dear  friend,  or  commence  some 
important  work  on  Friday.  We  may  search  our  society. 
American  or  English,  high  and  low,  and  it  is  seldom  our 
scrutiny  fails  to  deteel  open  superstition,  or  decided  taints 
of  belief  in  supernatural  visitations.  Few  there  are.  who 
in  childhood  learned  of  "Raw-Head  and  Bloody-Bones/' 
do  not.  when  in  riper  years  of  manhood,  cast  a  furtive 
glance  over  their  shoulder,  as  they  tread  the  public 
highway  near  the  old  burying-ground ;  or  who  do  not, 
in  night's  late  hour,  glance  uneasily  about  as  they  have 

asion    to    search    for   some    article,  in    the    far   away 

serted  garrel  at  the  top  of  the  house,  over  whose  dusty 
boards,  footfalls    seldom  tramp    even  in   noonday.     This 


BELIEF     IN    G  PI  0  ST  S.  115 


feeling — it  is  but  a  created  emotion  of  the  mind — has  clung 
to  me,  not  that  I  fear  anything  outright,  but  sometimes 
uneasy  qualms  and  nervous  twitchings  have  passed  over 
my  person,  as  I  was  situated  in  some  lonely,  deserted,  and 
reputedly  haunted  spot.  It  is  an  inheritance  of  childhood, 
and  is  not  a  natural  emotion.  I  have  felt  the  same 
feeling  flit  through  my  soul,  that  I  experienced  when  I 
wandered  amid  the  deep  gorges  of  the  Spectral  Hartz,  as 
when,  benighted  by  gloom,  I  have  hastened  by  the  negro 
burying-ground  in  my  fir  away  Southern  home,  near  the 
Falling-Run.  I  have  more  than  once  felt  a  chilling  fear 
steal  over  me,  as  some  unusual  sight  startled  my  vision, 
and  appealed  to  higher  powers  than  I  possessed  to  be 
"accounted  for."  Many  an  object,  quaint  and  ghostlike, 
have  I  seen,  and  many  a  sound  of  supernatural  import 
have  I  heard.  Most  of  them  I  have  gradually  been  able 
to  account  for,  and  others  remain  to  this  day,  as  then, 
wrapt  in  profound  mystery.  I  generally  credit  myself 
with  a  quota  of  courage  equal  to  that  of  most  of  the  dwellers 
on  earth,  not  that  I  am  boasting,  but  as  Dr.  Wayland, 
my  once  revered  preceptor,  says,  I  am  "  so  constituted" 
and  I  am  a  firm  disbeliever  in  ghosts,  and  in  any  and  all 
spiritual  manifestations,  yet  more  than  once  have  I 
breathed  for  many  minutes  with  suspended  breath, 
expecting  momentarily  real  or  imaginary  ghosts  to  fill  the 
scope  of  my  visual  range.  But  my  humble  adventures  I 
must  retain,  and  pass  off  some  of  them,  as  my  tale,  which 
com os  next  on  the  docket. 

We  returned  this  morning  from  our  stroll,  about  twelve 
o'clock.     Before  we  reached  the  hotel,  we  noticed  on  this 


1  I  6  M  R  .     w  l  N  l  HRO  P. 

street  a  shop  in  which  artificers  were  working  ;i  species 
of  ver}  beautiful  native  stone.  It  resembles  in  texture 
and  softness  the  general  building-stone  in  Paris,  but  it  is 
a  finer  stone,  and  changes  its  texture  altogether  after 
hardening.  It  is  very  easily  wrought,  and  makes  hand- 
some ornaments.  The  talenl  is  native,  also,  and  being 
MalU  -' .  it  is  very  creditable.  The  workmen  were  busily 
engaged  on  the  tombstone  which  was  to  cover  the  remains 
of  an  unfortunate  young  American,  who  died  not  long  ago 
in  this  far-away  spot,  separated  from  friends  and  kinsmen, 
1  hi t  whose  presence  was  cheered  to  the  last  with  the  gene- 
rous countenance  of  our  consul.  It  is  sad  to  contemplate 
the  last  resting-spol  of  a  fellow-countryman — his  grave 
dug  in  a  foreign  sod;  and  sadder  yet  is  it  for  us  to  know, 
situated  as  we  are  at  present,  that  insidious  disease  is 
rampant  in  our  systems.  Thank  God,  that  enough  good 
blood  yet  courses  through  my  veins  to  enable  me  to  reach 
borne,  and  there  awaiting  my  appointed  time,  lay  my 
bones  amid  the  dust  of  my  grandfathers,  beneath  the 
green  turf  of  old  Virginia ! 

We  were  visited  shortly  after  reaching  the  hotel,  by  our 
gentlemanly  consul,  Mr.  Winthrop.  We  spent  several 
hour-  most  agreeably.  1  find  he  knows  man)'  of  my 
Yankee  friends  in  Providence,  where  he  had  the  same 
Alma  Mater  that  once  sheltered  me  beneath  her  wing. 
We  extended  him  a  very  cordial  invitation  to  take  dinner 
with  us.  and  he  accepted  a-  cordially.  So.  just  before  six 
o'clock  this  afternoon  he  came  down,  arrayed  in  full  con- 
sular dress,  lie  is  a  splendid-looking  man,  and  habited 
a-  le-  was,  in  a  rich  and  dashing  style,  he  presented  a  fine 


MR.     WINTHROP.  117 


appearance.  Mr.  Wirithrop  is  quite  a  scholar,  and  has 
done  more  than  any  living  person  towards  the  translation 
of  the  old  Latin  records  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John,  and 
the  history  of  the  island  and  fortifications,  compiled  and 
written  by  different  authorities  in  that  order.  On  account 
of  his  proficiency  in  this  particular  and  arduous  branch  of 
learning,  Mr.  Winthrop  has  been  elected  a  Literary  mem- 
ber of  scientific  societies  in  London,  Paris,  in  Denmark, 
&c.  He  stands  high  in  Malta  as  a  gentleman ;  and  the 
fact  that  our  government  has  kept  him  here  for  twenty- 
five  years  is  ample  proof  of  our  estimation  of  him  as  a  con- 
sular representative.  At  our  dinner,  to-day,  we  enjoyed 
a  genuine,  genial,  patriotic,  American  meal ;  and  Washing- 
ton, the  immortal  father  of  his  country  and  fosterer  of 
American  liberty,  was  duly  toasted,  and  his  memory 
drunk  in  deep  libations.  And  so  the  evening  wore  on. 
Since  I  commenced  to  scribble  in  this,  my  Journal,  another 
hour  has  fled  by.  It  is  growing  late,  and  I  must  close. 
To-morrow  afternoon,  we  trust  to  the  dangers  of  the  deep 
once  more  ************** 
Wednesday,  February  23d,  1859.       ****** 

French  ship  Meandre,  at  sea,  near  Alexandria.  ] 
Sunday,  February  27th,  1859.  j 
Four  long  days  have  passed  since  last  I  put  pen  to 
paper,  to  indite  my  different  thoughts,  and  the  current 
events  of  the  day,  in  the  leaves  of  my  journal.  Time 
has  nevertheless  flown  swiftly,  and  has  now  placed  us  in 
an  hour's  or  so  steaming  of  Alexandria,  in  Egypt.  Sin- 
gular, indeed,  has  been  the  metamorphosis  in  my  feelings ! 


11^  ALEXANDRIA     IN     SIGH  I '. 


Last  Wednesdaj  I  stood  m  Malta,  and  felt  as  if  /  was 
of  crea  ion  exactly,  and  far  removed  from  anything  like 
civilization  even.  Ami  yet,  cow  1  am  many  hundred 
miles  nearer  heathenism  and  the  "darkness  of  Egypt" 
than  ever  before  in  my  life,  and  I  feel,  singular  to  say,  as 
if  I  was  approching  a  mon  civilized  country.  But  Malta 
is  rock-bound,  flinty,  and  sufficiently  contracted  to  curb 
one's  many  ideas  of  the  blessings  of  civilization  or  of  any- 
thing else. 

For  four  long  days,  then,  we  have  buffeted  the  waters 
of  the  treacherous  Mediterranean;  and  now,  u>day,  the 
fifth  since  our  departure,  we  are  cleaving  the  waters  with 
buried  bow,  with  our  first  port — old  Eg}  ptian  Alexandria — 
full  in  sight.  What  a  glorious  feeling  thrills  through  me, 
as  1  see  the  dark  line  which  marks  the  tar-oil'  shores  of 
Egypt,  and  the  swelling  domes  and  toweling  minarets 
and  crescenl  mosque-caps  which  rise  above  the  city  in  the 
distance  !  I  almost  forget  that  1  have  yet  to  recross  all 
the  wild  waste  of  wide  waters  behind  me,  as  1  stand  lost 
in  contemplation.  And  is  this  the  ancient  Egypt  of  the 
Potiphars  and  Pharaohs  of  olden  time?  is  this  the  land 
throughout  which  Joseph  at  one  t inie  dist ributed  the  vital 
Staff,  :nid    to  which    his   old    lather.   Israel,  and    his   many 

is,  wnt  down  and  dwelt  with  him?  Is  this  land 
spread  before  me.  indeed  the  same,  into  which  Joseph  and 
.Mary  and  "the  young  child  Jesus"  lied  for  safety  from 
Herod's  cruel  murder  of  the  innocents'.'  Ami  Moses,  too, 
saw  the  light  here;  and  from  hence  the  Israelites  wan- 
dered hark  home  to  their  far  Judean  hills.  Well,  we 
know  not  what  tin,'  morrow  will  brine  forth. 


SEA-SICKNESS.  119 


Since  we  left  Valetta,  we  have  had  alternately  good 
and  bad  weather ;   but  all  the  time,  nearly,  the  wind  has 
been  in  our  favor,  and  has  aided  much  our  rather  feeble 
screw.     The  Meandre,  though  slow — most  dreadfully  so, 
compared  to  our  North  River  or  Sound  boats — is  yet   a 
most  seaworthy  craft,  and  in  tough  blows  and  squalls, 
which  have  visited  us  in  the  last  four  or  five  days,  has 
behaved  most  nobly,  with  one  exception.     She  broaches 
rather  bad,  causing  her  to  roll  like  a  tub ;  but  she  has  not 
shipped  a  tumblerfull  of  water  since  we  started  out  of 
Valetta,  and  we    have  seen  rough  weather  since.     Sea- 
sickness has  had  its  share  of  victims,  but,  unfortunately 
for  my  health,  1    have   thus   far  escaped    the   monster's 
clutches.     I  am  never  sea-sick  now-a-days.     I  well  recol- 
lect the  first  time  I  ventured  on  the  wide  and  deep  waters 
of  the  Atlantic.     It  was  six  years  ago,  on  a  short  passage 
from  Norfolk  to  New  York.     The  winds  blew  and  the 
rain  descended,  aud  the  good   steamer  Jamestown  was 
compelled  to  lay  to ;  and,  in  the  tossing,  tumbling,  rolling, 
and  pitching,  /had  to  lay  to  also,  or  rather  I  had  to  lay 
low,  and  very  low  I  was,  or  imagined  I  was.     From  that 
day  to  this,  I  have  not  been  sea-sick,  although  I  have 
crossed  many  miles    of  sea-water  in   the   long   interim. 
Sea-sickness  is  no  respecter  of  persons ;  yet  it  does  not 
attack  all  alike  :  for  I  am  an  individual  exception  myself. 
I  believe  this  to  be  a  general  rule  in  regard  to  this  dread- 
ful sickness ;— persons  can  become  habituated  to  it,  and 
will  soon  cease  to  feel  the  effects  of  the  motion  of  the 
billows.     This  we  see  in  the  case  of  seafaring  men — men 
who  sometimes  actually  stumble,  and  get  virtually  sea- 


1  _'•  BEA-SIOKNESS, 


sick  on  land!  Some  captains  saj  thej  never  were  sick 
from  tlic  time  they  trod  a  plank  a1  sea  a  forecastle  boy 
to  the  time  thej  now.  master  of  the  quarter-deck,  com- 
manded a  ship  of  their  own.  1  believe  this  much  in 
regard  to  that  :  if  ihev  never  were  sick — sea-sick  I 
mean — then  their  systems  (either  the  liver  or  stomach 
especially)  was  deranged.  Every  healthy  organ  responds 
to  hurtful  agencies.  Notice  the  general  effect  of  to- 
bacco on  beginners.  So  in  regard  to  sea-sickness.  Place 
a  man  on  ship-hoard  at  sea — let  him  have  a  healthy 
organization — his  abdominal  and  thoracic  viscera  in  a  nor- 
mal  tonic  state,  and  that  man  must  be  sea-sick,  unless  the 

ia  a-  smooth  as  a  mill-pond.  Concerning  the  remedies 
tor  the  disease,  we  are  taught  in  our  medical  schools  that 
the  radical  cure  of  all  maladies  should  be  directed  with 
an  aim  'primarily  to  remove  tht  cause.  If  we  can  render 
quiescent  and  placid  the  sullen  roll  or  angry  pitching  of 
the  restless  deep,  then  we  can  cure  at  the  onset  sea-sick- 
ness; but  this  we  cannot  do.  According  to  my  individual 
experience,  I  found  more  speedy  and  grateful  relief  from 
a  horizontal  position  on  deck,  about  midships,  keeping  my 
eyes  clmed  'ill  tht  time.  The  latter  is  especially  import- 
ant,  as    it   is  with    these   organs  we  can    comparatively 

irmine  the  pitching  and  tossing  more  exactly.  All 
this    nonsense — it    is    nothing    more — about    citric   acid, 

/.  &c.,  I  have  found  to  be  a  genuine  humbug.  Be 
all  this  as  it  may.  throughout  our  voyage  from  Valetta 
to  this  fast-nearing  port,  I  have  not  been  sea-sick;  so  far 
from  it,  I  have  not  missed  a  meal,  and  1  attribute  it  to  an 


A    VIRGINIAN.  121 


already  unsusceptible  and  debilitated  state  of  the  stomach 
and  liver. 

The  first  day  we  came  aboard  the  Meandre,  last  Wed- 
nesday evening,  23d  hist.,  while  S.  and  self,  arm  in  arm, 
were  pacing  the  ample  deck  of  the  ship,  we  observed  a 
gentleman  of  decidedly  a  Virginian  cast  of  countenance. 
I  doubted  it ;  and  though  we  had  not  heard  a  word  fall 
from  his  lips,  S.  insisted  that  the  gentleman  in  question 
was  a  Virginian,  and  offered  to  wager  any  amount  that 
he  was  right,  and  could  tell  one  of  my  own  statesmen 
better  than  I  could  myself.  The  matter  was  soon  set  at 
rest;  the  dark-haired  gentleman  first  stepped  up  to  S., 
and  with  a  graceful  bow  spoke  in  our  good,  sweet  vernacu- 
lar, "  this  is  Dr.  S.,  I  believe ;"  and  before  the  astonished 
S.  could  assure  him  he  was  right,  he  turned  to  me,  with 
"  the  hope  that  he  had  the  pleasure  of  addressing  Dr.  T." 
He  then  introduced  himself;  and  a  nice  man  turns  out 
to  be  the  Rev.  H.  R.  S — tt,  of  Lynchburg,  Va.  Yes ;  S. 
was  right,  and  I  gave  the  palm  to  him.  We  were  glad 
enough  to  grasp  Mr.  S — tt  by  the  hand ;  and  soon  we 
were  in  possession  of  one  another's  plans.  Mr.  S — tt  has 
been  of  late  in  Rome — how  my  heart  joyfully  throbs,  as 
I  think  of  my  sojourn  near  the  old  Campus  Martius,  and 
the  Tiber ! — but  his  health  failing  him,  he  had  started  on 
this  tour  towards  the  land  of  the  Pyramids.  I  have  been 
persuading  him  to  go  on  by  Alexandria,  and  visit  Jerusa- 
lem and  its  environs,  Dead  Sea,  Jordan,  &c,  and  then 
return  to  Egypt ;  by  so  doing  he  would  have  company,  as 
that  is  our  idea.  I  think  at  present  that  he  will  do  this, 
and  will  return  by  Greece  with  me.    Besides  Mr.  S — tt.  we 


of  R     PLANS. 


have   made  the  acquaintance  of  a  nice  Swiss  gentleman 

from  Zurich.  His  came  is  Conrad  Esslinger ;  he  is 
Capitaine  d'Etat  Major,  in  his  country.  Our  party,  bound 
to  Jerusalem,  has  swelled  considerably,  1  ;>in  glad  to  say. 
It  consists  of  the  following  members:  my  friend  from 
Savannah,  S.;  the  good  "huzzar,"  Johannes  Montag; 
Conrad  Esslinger;  the  Rev.  11  R.  S— it  ;  a  fal  Franciscan 
friar,  who  calls  himself  "Padre  Q.  da  S.  G&rmano  di 
Qeru8alemm<  :"  a  German-Jew,  and  myself,  making  quite 
a  respectable  show  of  respectable-looking  men. 

We  have  concluded  to  land  at  Jaffa,  and  proceed  direct 
to  Jerusalem.  We  understand,  however,  from  the  cap- 
tain, that  landing  at  Jaffa  is  oftener  than  otherwise  out 
of  the  question,  and  that  it  is  always  doubtful.  The  sea, 
is  very  frequently  quite  rough  at  that  sacred  port,  and 
breaking  over  a  Ledge  of  rock  lining  the  coast,  raises  such 
a  surf  thai  a  boat  cannot  live  in  it  at  all.  If  such  should 
be  our  fate,  we  will  be  carried  to  Beirut,  farther  up  the 
Syrian  coast.  The  only  advantage  accruing  from  this 
would  be,  that  we  are  quite  near  to  Ba'albeck  and  Damas- 
cus and  have  the  Lebanon  right  at  us.  1  hope,  however. 
mosl  sincerely,  that  we  can  land  at  Jaffa,  as  that  is  my 
favorite  plan.  1  wish  soon  to  be  in  El-Kvds,  the  City  of 
Ktcmal  Peace.  My  present  plan  is,  to  return  with  Mr. 
S — 11  to  Egypt,  visit  the  Red  Sea.  Pyramids,  "  Le  Grand 
Caire."  and  then  sail  direct  for  Piraeus,  in  Greece. 

During  our  voyage,  our  evenings  down  in  our  cabin 
were  enlivened    by   several  stories,  which   according  to 

eement  had  to  be  told;  and  thus  our  time  passed  mer- 
rily and   happily  away.      And   after  the  sea-sickness  was 


THE    SHIP-SURGEON.  123 


somewhat  on  the  decline,  nothing  could  have  presented  a 
more  snug  and  comfortable  appearance  than  did  our  Jeru- 
salem 'party \  seated  around  the  long  table  in  the  cabin  of 
the  Meandre,  either  listening  to  a  comrade's  story,  or  each 
engaged  with  the  other,  on  the  all-absorbing  topic  of  the 
wonders  and  sacred  sights  awaiting  us  in  the  Holy  Land. 
Since  we  have  been  aboard  the  Meandre,  we  have  formed 
the  acquaintance  of  the  ship-surgeon,  a  very  nice  old  fel- 
low. He  has  been  quite  at  ease  with  our  party,  owing  to 
the  fact,  perhaps,  that  he  finds  two  of  his  brother  meds. 
in  the  crowd.  Be  that  as  it  may,  he  has  contributed 
more  than  his  quota  to  our  amusement  and  comfort.  He 
has  ordered  beer  a  good  many  times ;  and  the  lavish  hand 
which  he  shows  when  he  orders  it,  is  convincing  proof 
that  when  he  "  treats,"  he  treats  by  wholesale.  At  our 
solicitation,  several  days  ago,  he  promised  us  a  story ; 
though  he  seemed  rather  surprised  when  we  made  the 
singular  request  of  him,  for  it  is  not  a  Frenchman's  forte 
to  spin  yarns.  But,  nevertheless,  he  consented ;  and,  in 
accordance  with  his  promise,  he  proceeded  to  relate  to  us 
a  rather  singular,  and  yet  a  very  thrilling  story  of  Paris 
life;  a  story  which  was  a  story  but  in  name,  as  he,  the 
worthy  surgeon,  was  well  acquainted  with  the  parties 
which  figured  in  the  romantic  narrative.  Out  of  respect 
to  the  narrator,  and  a  wish  specially  to  hear  Monsieur  le 
Docteur's  story,  all  of  us  were  at  his  appointed  hour  in 
the  cabin,  and  awaited  in  respectful  silence  for  the 
appearance  of  the  Doctor.  He  was  not  long  in  showing 
us  his  good-humored  countenance,  as  he  saw  us  awaiting 
his  arrival.     Without  ado — as  he  affirmed  he  had  some 


1  •  J  I  \     ST0R1     OF     PARIS     LIF1 


writing   in    hand    before    he   got    into   Alexandria,    and 
intended  doing  sonic  that  night — he  proceeded  immedi- 

ateh  with  his  Btory,  which  1  will  here  record  as  correctly 

AS   1  can  recall  it. 

"You  know.  Messieurs,"  said  the  Doctor,  ••that  I  am  a 
native  of  our  capital,  Paris:  and  always  resided,  while  in 
that  -a\  city,  in  what  is  known  as  the  '  Qu  artier  Latin.' 
It  is  in  that  portion  of  the  city,  a-  you  well  know,  that 
medical  students  generally  congregate;  and  many  a 
happy  day  have  I  whiled  away  on  the  Rue  tie  Seine,  in 
the  magnificent  garden  of  the  Luxembourg,  or  in  the  holy 
precincts  of  St.  Sulpice,  St.  Genevieve,  or  St.  Germain  de 
Pivs.  While  I  was  a  student,  gentlemen,  and  when  I 
attended  the  cliniques  at  La  Charito.  and  at  the  Hotel 
Dien.  before  Velpeau  had  won  a  name,  and  before  Paul 
du  Bois  was  a  Doctor  of  Medicine,  I  very  frequently  met 
in  my  rounds  in  the  hospitals  a  tall,  lair-haired,  pale-com- 
plexioned. \  et  very  intellectual-looking  young  man.  He 
was  a  genuine  student,  as  we  could  well  determine  from 
his  conduct.  He  made  his  appearance  in  the  wards  as 
daily,  rain  or  shine,  and  more  punctually  than  did  the 
agrSgS  who  hail  the  malades  here  under  his  charge. 
Quiet  and  unobtrusive,  yet  ever  attending  to  his  business, 
and  endeavoring  very  ardently  to  stock  his  brain  with 
knowledge — always  cordially  but  not  studiously  polite,  he 
Boon  hecame  a  favorite  with  all  who  were  accustomed  to 
meet  him.  Edward  Lagautier  was  a  scholar  and  a  gentle- 
man ;  and  I.  after  many  vain  attempts,  had  the  pleasure 
of  :i  personal  acquaintance  with  him.  1  was  not  slow  in 
following  up  fchifi    acquaintance.      Somehow  or  other  I 


A     STORY     OF     PARIS     LIF?:.  125 


always  felt  an  attraction  toward  his  sweet  and  smiling 
face — this  attraction  was  the  occasion  of  my  acquaint- 
ance. Only  a  few  weeks  elapsed  before  I  had  formed  a 
firm  attachment  toward  the  young  student,  and  the  time 
rapidly  approached  when  we  unbosomed  our  secrets  fully 
to  each  other;  and  each  had  for  the  other,  a  confiding:  ear. 
I  had  not  known  him  for  any  length  of  time  before  he 
related  to  me  several  incidents  of  his  life — a  life  which 
had  been  checkered  with  many  cares  and  troubles.  When 
quite  young,  in  his  native  town  of  Pau,  he  lost  his  father 
by  some  untoward  accident ;  and  thus  he,  his  two  sisters, 
and  his  mother  were  cut  off  from  the  support  which  such 
a  prop  as  father  and  husband  afforded.  Death  did  not 
cease  his  doings :  his  two  sisters  fell  sick  and  died,  and  his 
mother  followed  in  rapid  succession.  At  the  demise  of 
the  latter  every  sous  passed  from  the  family ;  and  when 
that  dear  form  was  hid  beneath  the  earth,  a  lonely  feel- 
ing crept  in  that  lone  son's  bosom — a  feeling  which  none 
can  describe,  and  a  feeling  which  had  been  more  or  less 
fostered  since  that  time.  This  accounted  for  his  melan- 
choly, quiet,  and  brooding  appearance.  But  Edward 
went  on  and  confided  to  me  another  tale — one  of  sweeter 
import — it  was  the  tale  of  love.  Yes,  he  told  me  that, 
while  in  Lyons,  a  year  or  so  previous  to  the  period  of  this 
narrative,  he  had  met  in  that  beautiful  city  a  gay  young 
creature  who  had  laid  siege  immediately  to  his  heart,  and 
had  taken  the  citadel  of  his  soul  by  fierce  assault.  I 
could  proceed  to  narrate  touching  incidents  in  the  lover- 
life  of  these  two  young  people,  but  time  will  not  per- 
mit me. 


L26  \     STORl     OF     PARIS     l.l  I'K. 

"Edward  told  me  that  this  fair  fairy,  who  ruled  bis 
actions  and  even  thought,  was  now  in  the  city,  and 
awaited  anxiously  the  time  he  was  to  graduate  in  his  pro- 

sion ;  at  which  time  he  would  claim  her  as  Ids  bride. 
Dearly  he  loved  thi<  bright-eyed  one— his  inamorata — and 
often  spoke  to  me  in  glowing  terms  concerning  her;  but 
Love  is  blind,  and  1  did  nol  credit  bis  half-crazed  enco- 
miums. Time  wore  on.  and  the  examination-days  were 
fast  approaching;  thrice  anxiously  did  Lagautier  look 
forward  to  their  arrival ;  for  on  their  advent,  or  rather  at 
their  expiration,  he  would  be  a  happy  man.  and  he  would 
find  one  who  would  supply  to  him  mother,  father,  and 
Bister.  Alas!  we  cannot  delve  into  futurity,  and  bring 
out  its  hidden  revelations;  and  perhaps  it  is  better  so,  as 
otherwise  there  are  few  in  this  world  who  would  drink  at 
all  from  pleasure's  intoxicating  cup.  Edward  and  his  fair 
Marie  were  one  daw  arm  in  arm.  strolling  along  the  beau- 
tiful  avenue  des  Champs  Klysees.  talking  of  love,  and 
breathing  love's  sweetest  atmosphere.  Each  possessed 
most  fully  the  secrets  of  the  other's  heart,  and  not  a 
shadow  of  distrust  or  suspicion  had  ever  for  a  moment 
rested  on  their  minds.  Edward  urged  Marie  to  confide 
to  him  her  former  life,  a  subject  she  had  ever  studiously 
avoided:  and  to  Edward  her  early  history  was  as  un- 
known as  the  mountains  in  the  moon.  Once  again  she 
asked  him  not  to  request  this  of  her.  telling  him  that 
when  they  were  married  he  should  know  all.  This  did 
nol  the  young  man;   and  tin-  question  he  had  first 

asked  in  trifling  curiosity,  he  now  pressed  with  vigorous 
earnestness.    Hut  she  would  sav  nothing,  and  so  the  sub- 


A     STORY    OF     PARIS     LIFE.  127 


ject  dropped.  For  many  days  subsequently,  Edward  sougi  1 1 
in  vain  the  presence  of  his  Marie.  He  inquired  for  her 
at  her  lodgings,  but  "  Mdlle.  Marie  est  toujours  sortie' — 
yes,  she  was  never  in ;  and  finally  he  was  told,  much  to 
his  astonishment,  that  the  young  lady  had  very  suddenly 
on  yesterday  left  the  premises,  and  had  moved  perhaps  to 
another  portion  of  the  city ;  but  none  knew  positively 
whither  she  had  gone.  This  was  unpleasant  news,  and 
thrice  deep  it  plunged  Edward  into  the  abysses  of  melan- 
choly. Yet  he  was  as  regular  as  ever  at  the  hospitals. 
One  day,  and  I  shall  never  forget  that  day,  arm  in  arm, 
Edward  and  myself  slowly  took  our  way  toward  the 
Hotel  Dieu.  We  crossed  the  river  over  the  Pont  Royal, 
and  continued  up  the  west  bank  of  the  river.  Slowly  we 
took  our  way  amid  the  human  stream  that  flooded  by, 
mere  powerful  than  the  waters  of  the  Seine  over  the  walls 
which  skirted  along  the  bank.  Edward  seemed  to  be  in 
a  gayer  mood  than  ever — that  is,  for  the  last  week — and 
I  knew  not  to  what  to  attribute  it.  He  laughed  and 
talked,  but  never  referred  once  to  Marie,  the  cause  of  his 
late  vexations  of  mind.  Suddenly  he  said  very  ear- 
nestly— '  Gustave,  something  will  happen  this  morning 
which  will  make  me  henceforth  a  gloomy  man  or  a  happy 
man !'  '  And  why  think  you  so,  Edward  ?'  I  queried. 
1  Because,'  he  replied,  '  I  had  a  vision  last  night  in  which 
an  angel  stood  by  my  bed,  and  repeated  these  very  words 
to  me  which  I  have  just  uttered  to  you.'  '  Nonsense  !'  I 
replied ;  '  you  lower  your  intellect,  Edward,  by  believing 
in  the  awkward  fancies  of  slumber.'  '  Well,  we  shall 
see,'  he   answered  very  decidedly,  as    if   to  let  coming 


L28  A    ST0R7    ov    PARIS    LIFE. 


events  decide  as  to  the  truthfulness  of  his  predictions. 
T>\  that  time. we  had  drawn  near  the  far-famed  Morgue, 
of  which  ever}  dweller  in  Paris  has  heard.  Arrived 
here,  Edward  halted,  and  said  in  a  joking  manner,'  lift's 
look  in.  Gustave,  and  sec  if  an\  have  been  silly  enough 
to  allow  themselves  to  be  fished  up  out  of  the  Seine'. 
But,  Gustave,  before  we  go  in,  1  speak  first  for  a  jvm 
femaU  subject,  if  any  are  here  as  1  have  not  done  much 
at  the  Ecole  Pratique  of  late.'  He  said  this,  it  seemed  to 
me,  in  pleasant  jocularity — speaking  of  mortality  in  the 
trifling  tone  customary  with  students.  In  we  went;  I. 
more  to  satisfy  Edward's  desire  than  to  fulfil  any  cravings 
of  my  own.  Only  the  form  of  one  female  greeted  our 
gaze;  and  as  the  figure  was  perfectly  nude  I  was  struck 
with  the  faultless  symmetry  of  the  form.  It  was  a 
f,  „,, il,  subject  of  perfect  mould.  Immediately  Edward 
strode  up  and  cast  a  glance  at  the  features  of  the  dead 
woman,  lie  started  wildly  hack,  and  flung  his  hands 
high  over  his  head.  And  such  a  look  as  then  rested  on 
his  face  !  My  God  !  I  shall  never  forget  it.  Each  fea- 
ture seemed  to  stand  out  in  the  perfect  agony  of  agonized 
contortion.  That  look  is  engraved  on  the  tablets  of  my 
memory,  and  there  it  will  remain  until  I  am  no  longer  a 
dweller  among  men.  With  a  sudden  hound  he  grasped 
lin-  by  the  arm,  and  dragged  me  with  a  giant's  force 
toward- the  suicide's  plank.  'Look,' he  hissed  between 
his  teeth,  'and  see  .MA  II  IK!'  I  did  look.  Just  Heaven! 
and  was  this  hi-  Marie?  I  turned  to  his  distorted  fea- 
tures.  'Why,  Edward,  I  know  this  woman;  she  is  noto- 
rious  in  the  Champs   Elys6es — she  is  a  common  woman!' 


A     STORY    OF     PARIS     LIFE.  120 


These  words  fell  rapidly  from  my  lips,  but  their  effect 
was  magical ;  what  I  had  uttered  was  true  to  the  letter. 
A  wild,  frenzied  cry  of  anguish  burst  from  poor  Edward's 
lips,  and  he  fell  with  a  heavy  groan  to  the  cold  stone  floor 
of  the  Morgue.  He  was  a  maddened,  gibbering,  shiver- 
ing maniac.  But,  Messieurs,  I  must  retire  and  attend  to 
some  business  more  important  than  this,  I  esteem  it.  If 
I  had  more  time  at  my  disposal,  I  could  tell  you  further 
of  poor  Edward  Lagautier;  but,  as  it  is,  Messieurs,  bon 
soir  et  clormez  bien." 

And  such  was  the  surgeon's  story,  and  such  the  manner 
in  which  we  spent  one  evening  on  shipboard. 

Ship  Meandre,  Port  of  Alexandria,  Egypt. 
Monday,  February  28th,  1859. 

In  one  sense  it  seems  surprisingly  long  since  I  penned 
the  last  day's  journal,  yet  in  another  view  it  is  equally  as 
short.  The  first  is  perhaps  occasioned  by  the  fact  that 
when  I  wrote  my  last  journal,  the  day  had  scarcely  com- 
menced to  wane,  and  many  hours  of  sunshine  yet 
remained  before  night  came  on.  The  second,  or  short 
view,  may  be  occasioned  in  this  wise — instead  of  smoke- 
stack, capstan,  compass,  cordage,  and  the  wild  waste  of 
waters  simply  to  gaze  at,  we  now  have  under  our  eye- 
sight crowds  of  something  new  on  which  to  rest  our  gaze, 
this  something  being  in  the  shape  of  Turks,  Arabs,  and 
native  "  darkies'  which  swarm  around  our  good  old 
Meandre  in  boatloads. 

Well — yesterday,  after  getting  the  city  full  in  view,  we 
signalled  for  a  pilot,  and  lay  to,  until  one  arrived.     He 


1  30  \  \      OR]  IN  TA  I.      I'l  LOT. 


w;i-  the  firsl  Oriental  native  thai  nn  eyes  ever  beheld. 
Be  was  dressed  in  the  costume  of  his  country — turban, 
full-flowing  browsers,  curled-toed  red  morocco  shoes,  and 

nil.  He  was  a  tall,  spare,  wiry,  and  very  humble-looking 
fellow  ;  ami  his  countenance  seemed  to  say,  when  lie  took 
command  »>!'  the  steamer,  ■■  1  beg  thousands  of  pardons! 
Allah  be  praised!"  I  came  near  getting  myself  into 
trouble,  when  this  all-important  personage  came  aboard. 
In  going  into  the  port  of  Alexandria,  when  the  quaran- 
tine laws  are  in  force,  it'  von  intend  remaining  on  the 
steamer  and  continuing  your  journey  up  the  Syrian  coast, 
you  are  not  allowed  to  return  to  the  steamer  if  3-011  one-' 
go  ashore.  If  this  liberty  m  allowed,  then  the  authorities 
in  the  Syrian  ports  of  Jaffa,  Beirut,  and  Tripoli  will  not 
allow  the  steamer  to  enter  their  harbors,  even.  So,  in  re- 
maining on  the  ship,  we  are  watched  most  scrutinizingly 
by  a  special  guardian,  who  sees  we  touch  not  the  garments, 

n.  of  any  of  the  uatives  who  come  aboard.  All  this 
trouble  is  on  account  of  the  Pest,  which  is  generally  lurk- 
in--  in  the  vile  dens  of  Alexandria.  Now,  when  our  pilot 
made  his  appearance  up  the  gangway  of  the  Meandre,  I 
pushed  forward  to  see  him,  and  get  a  view  of  the  parti- 
cular   elephant    in    question.      Suddenly    a   harsh   voice 

seted  my  ear:  "Arr&ez,  Monsieur!"  and  at  that  mo- 
ment tin-  strong  hand  of  our  second  lieutenant  was  laid 
on  my  coat  collar.  lie  very  quickly  explained  his  inten- 
tions which,  bo  tar  from  being  belligerent,  were  conducive 
to  my  own  welfare.  He  had  saved  me  from  contact  with 
the  Egyptian,  which,  had  I  been  guilty  of,  in  duty  bound. 


SWARM     OF     BOATMEN.  131 


I  would  have  been  compelled  to  leave  the  ship  and  my 
companions  at  Alexandria. 

After  many  orders  given  in  a  tongue  profoundly  un- 
known to  me,  and  after  much  manoeuvring,  our  worthy 
Egyptian  brought  us  safely  in  the  rather  dangerous  har- 
bor ;  and  soon  our  ears  were  delighted  with  the  joyous 
rattle  and  splurging  of  our  heavy  anchor.  Never  before 
or  since  have  I  witnessed  such  a  scene  as  greeted  our  eyes 
then.  We  had  many  passengers  for  Alexandria ;  and,  as 
is  the  case  all  over  Europe,  wherever  I  have  been — and 
the  custom  is  carried  to  Egypt — they  were  compelled  to 
land  by  means  of  small  boats  owned  by  different  indivi- 
duals. Turks,  Arabs,  Egyptians,  Greeks,  Englishmen, 
and  "  Niggers,"  crowded  in  myriads,  forming  a  most  mot- 
ley swarm  around  our  ship.  Such  yelling,  in  every  known 
and  unknown  tongue,  I  never  heard,  and  such  frantic  ges- 
tures for  patronage  I  never  witnessed.  They  fairly  took 
possession  of  our  gangway ;  and  when  a  passenger  would 
venture  down  to  get  ashore,  there  ensued  a  real  skirmish 
over  the  spoil.  Before  he  had  descended  two  steps  down 
the  ladder,  he  was  seized  by  a  dozen  brawny,  rough  hands, 
and  away  he  went  forth  from  one  boat  to  another,  as  the 
tide  of  victory  rested  with  each  particular  crew.  Some- 
times the  poor  traveller,  with  not  a  cupful  of  air  in  his 
lungs,  beaten,  punched,  dragged  almost  in  two,  and  nearly 
dismembered,  was  borne  high  aloft  amid  contending 
hands ;  and  again  he  would  be  trampled  under  foot,  while 
the  combatants,  dropping  mutually  "  the  bone  of  conten- 
tion," endeavored  to  settle  the  affair  vi  et  armis.  It  was 
amusing,  yet  dangerous.     The  manner  in  which  the  bag- 


132  DANGERS    TO     BAGGAGE. 


was  treated   beggars  description.     Grumblers  may 
speak  of  the  rudeness  and  smashing  habits  so  peculiar  to 
American  railways;  bul  that  peculiar  trait,  as  existing  in 
the  United  States.  i\nc*  not.  to  use  a  Western  expression. 
"hold  a  light"  to  the  exploits  of  a  trunk  at  this  Eastern 
port,  and  the  dangers  and  vicissitudes  of  fortunes  to  which 
it  is  here  subjected.     It  is  very  rare  that  one  everreaches 
the  boat  with  a  sound  and  healthy  top ;  and  1  saw,  myself, 
that  day,  mor<  tlian  one  disappear  for  ever  in  the  deep  l>ln< 
waU  rs  "/lit'  harbor!    Such  was  the  extent  to  which  tic 
Qoisy  fellows  carried  their  tumult,  that  our  first  lieuten- 
ant, to  shield  the  passengers  from  a  danger  whieh  really 
threatened  them,  life  and  limb,  seized  an  oar,  and  laid 
about  him  most   vigorously   for  several    moments.     The 
result  was,  that  the  gangway  was  soon  cleared,  and  some 
order  at  last  restored.     I  was  particularly  struck  with  the 
stoicism  with  which  a  hardy,  venerable-looking  old  Arab 
permitted   his   back  and  shoulders  to  receive  the  lieuten- 
ant- lusty  blows.      He  seemed   willing    to    endure  any- 
thing, provided   that  in  so  doing  he  ran  some  chance  of 
gaining  patronage.     The  greater  portion  of  our  company 
debarked  here,  directly  we  anchored:  and  now  the  ship  is 
really  dull  and  monotonous,  to  what  it  has  been.     A  lady 
and    her    little    daughter   are    the   only    passengers    now 
aboard,  save  our  own  Jm/suh n>  parly.     She  is  bound  to 
Jjcirut. 

While  looking  over  the  ship's  side,  yesterday  afternoon, 
watching  the  motley  mass  of  variegated  humanity  strug- 
gling for  their  prey,  a  row-boal  came  dashing  up  with  a 
middy   in  the    stern-sheets.     At    the   stern    of   the   boat 


THE     MACEDONIAN.  L33 


floated  the  broad  folds  of  the  American  flag.  What  a 
thrill  of  patriotism  fired  our  souls  as  we  saw  our  country's 
banner!  S.  immmediately  hailed  the  boat,  and  was 
answered  by  the  middy  most  politely  in  native  lingo.  We 
greeted  one  another  quite  cordially ;  and  the  young  officer, 
after  receiving  a  bundle  of  papers  from  our  captain,  gave 
us  a  pressing  invitation  to  visit  the  Macedonian — his 
ship — and  gave  orders  to  "  give  way."  We  saw  the  long 
high-tierced  hull  and  tall  stately  masts  of  the  Macedo- 
nian yesterday  morning,  as  we  came  into  port.  I  would 
like  very  much  to  tread  her  decks,  and  converse  awhile 
with  fellow-countrymen  in  my  own  tongue,  but  I  fear  we 
will  not  have  that  pleasure ;  in  fact  I  know  we  will  not, 
as  visiting  a  ship  in  port  is  the  same  as  going  ashore. 

For  to-day's  Journal  I  have  not  much  to  record,  for 
nothing  much  has  transpired,  and  scarcely  anything 
worthy  the  record.  As  I  have  previously  mentioned,  we 
were  not  allowed  to  go  ashore,  the  pest  preventing  us 
here ;  and,  on  account  of  it,  the  quarantine  laws  at  Jaffa. 
So  we  had  to  make  as  much  out  of  our  shipboard  confine- 
ment as  circumstances  would  allow.  -  We  read  we 
laughed,  we  promenaded  the  deck,  and  had  resort  to  tell- 
ing tales,  which  we  have  of  late  found  to  be  such  an  ex- 
cellent means  of  passing  the  dull  hours.  As  it  was  my 
turn  to-day,  or  rather  to-night,  I  contributed  my  humble 
mite ;  and,  as  is  my  custom,  I  will  record  it  when  I  have 
more  leisure,  perhaps  in  my  next  Journal.  I  do  not  feel 
like  writing  further  to-night,  as  I  have  already  been 
seated  under  the  cabin  chandelier  for  an  hour  or  more. 

Our  crew  has   been  very  industrious,  so    expeditious 


L3  1  READY    TO     SA  1  I.. 

indeed,  thai  our  cargo  for  this  port  is  already  discharged, 
and  we  will  Bail  to-morrow  morning  at  six  o'clock.  We 
could  Leave  to-night,  bu1  for  the  bad  harbor.     So  in  three 

or  four  davs  at  most,  shall  1  or  shall  I  not  stand  in  the 
walls  of  widowed  Jerusalem — the  city  of  Eternal  Peace? 
The  next  Journal  I  hope  to  write  in  a  spot  far  more 
contiguous  to  the  sacred  city.  What  thoughts  thrill  my 
very  soul  as  I  know,  God  willing,  that  1  shall  soon  stand 
under  the  shadow  of  the  temple,  and  that  my  eyes  shall 
behold  the  revered  brow  of  Olivet! 


Sea.  1 
159.  J 


CHAPTER  VII. 

French  steamer  Meandre,  Mediterranean  Sea. 
Tuesday,  March  1st,  18' 
^HIS  day  has  passed  most  smoothly.  Our  spirits 
seem  to  have  glided  along  with  the  same  oily, 
easy  motion  as  has  the  Meandre  through  the  per- 
fectly calm  waters  of  the  sea.  Such  beautiful 
weather,  in  fact,  I  never  saw.  A  clear  sky,  a  genial  tem- 
perature, a  bright  sun,  and  a  sea  like  glass !  Such  are 
the  days  when  one  can  enjoy  sea-faring  life.  And  this 
wide  difference  I  have  often  observed  and  dwelt  on  with 
singular  delight ;  for  in  the  changes  of  the  sea  we  have  a 
fine  comparison  with  things  of  lesser  life,  and  their  sud- 
den changes.  It  is  quite  common  to  meet  a  friend  to-day. 
who  has  the  sunshine  of  joy  gleaming  from  his  face. 
His  tone  is  cordial,  his  grasp  earnest  and  well  meant,  his 
eyes  glowing  with  the  pleasure  in  his  soul,  his  step  buoy- 
ant, his  every  action  speaking  of  bliss  of  mind,  and  sweet 
happiness,  which  only  contentment  can  give.  And  yet, 
to-morrow,  before  twenty-four  hours  have  winged  their 
noiseless  flight  to  the  shores  of  Past  Time,  mark  that  same 
friend  as  he  comes  rushing  along  the  crowded  thorough- 
fares. His  lips  are  compressed — the  mad  fires  of  anger 
burn  in  his  soul,  and  pass  out  through  the  windows  of  the 


5]    \     CONTRASTS. 

inner  man — his  buoyanl  step  is  hard,  crushing,  vehe- 
ment— his  cordial  grasp  he  locks  in  his  pockel — his  every 
action  is  the  antipode  of  yesterday's  bright  being — a  won- 
derful change  lias  passed  over  his  entire  nature,  and  the 
fierce  storm  of  angrj  contentions  howls  through  every 
38  in  his  boiling  bosom. 
It  is  pleasant  to  sail  the  sea  when  standing  on  the  deck 
of  a  noble  craft — when  sail  after  sail  bellies  to  the  burst- 
ing breeze — when  the  proud  craft  careers  far  to  the  lee- 
side,  as  she  feels  the  force  of  the  impelling  tide  of  air 
heaving  her  onward  in  her  homebound  track.  It  is 
pleasant  to  watch  the  clipper-bow,  curling  high  the  blue 
waters  of  the  gently-heaving  deep — to  cast  the  log,  and 
note  the  good  fact  that  we  are  making  ten  knots  an  hour, 
and  to  hear,  in  response  to  the  skipper's  "  up  with  the 
spanker,"  the  sturdy  and  obedient  "  aye,  aye,  sir."  Yes. 
this  is  all  pleasant  enough;  but  how  different  the  feeling, 
when,  late  on  some  howling,  pitchy  night,  we  stumble 
like  a  drunken  man  up  the  companion-way,  scarcely  able 
to  keep  our  feet,  and  peep  timidly  forth  into  the  wild, 
unearthly,  awe-inspiring  night !  Many  a  one,  who  never 
tefore  used  the  word,  breathes  then  the  name  of  mighty 
God.  There  flies  the  scudding  ship — her  snowy  canvass, 
though  we  cannot  see  it.  is  brailed  and  furled  tightly 
to  each  yard.  One  lone  storm  stay-sail  swells  to  the 
roaring  gale,  and  keeps  the  noble  craft  steady  in  her 
demon-like  career.  The  hoarse  command  of  the  officer  is 
heard  no  longer;  he  has  done  all  he  can,  and  stands 
lashed  to  the  rigging,  while  four  men  man  the  creaking 
wheel.     5Tes,  quite  different  is  this  sight,  and  far  different 


LEAVE    ALEXANDRIA.  137 


is  the  music  of  the  taut-breeze,  singing  mournfully  through 
the  cordage,  from  the  maniac  gibbers  of  the  storm-god 
invading  his  brother  sea-god's  vast  domain,  while  his 
infernal  pipers  peal  forth  the  sailor's  doom  in  whistling 
unearthly  shrieks  through  the  straining  shrouds.  I  have 
contemplated  both  of  these  scenes,  and  write  from  well- 
earned  experience. 

This  morning,  before  six  o'clock,  and  long  before  any 
of  us  had  shaken  off  the  embrace  of  Morpheus,  the 
Meandre  loosed  her  anchor,  and  stole  quietly  out  of  the 
port  of  Alexandria.  When  I  awoke,  and  came  on  deck 
to  take  a  look  at  things  around,  we  were  just  dismissing 
our  aforesaid  Egyptian  pilot,  and  Alexandria  was  some 
distance  astern,  basking  in  the  early  morning  sunshine. 
A  most  pleasing  sight  we  enjoyed  to-day,  when  our  good 
ship  was  ploughing  the  waters  at  a  rapid  rate.  It  was 
when  we  crossed  one  of  the  mouths  of  the  Nile,  at  its 
delta.  The  water  of  the  Nile  is  pale  cream  in  color, 
while  that  of  the  Mediterranean  is  perfectly  jetty  in  its 
hue.  These  two  waters  never  mingle — at  least,  close  in — 
and  so  well  is  there  a  line  of  separation  drawn,  that  this 
singular  phenomenon  can  be  observed  far  out  at  sea.  In 
shine  or  storm,  in  calm  or  blow,  these  waters  remain 
unmingled,  and  seem  to  repel  each  other,  as  do  the  same 
kinds  of  electricity.  We  watched  the  beautiful  sight  for 
several  miles.  I  was  under  the  impression  that  we  were 
on  shoal  water,  but  our  lieutenant,  explaining  the  appear- 
ance of  the  waves,  assured  us  the  depth  was  many 
fathoms.  Well,  thus  the  day  came  and  went,  and  late 
in  the  evening  we   assembled   in   the   cabin,   to  arrange 


I     -  JAFFA    IN    SIG  ll  T. 


affairs  preparatory  to  Landing  to-morrow,  as  we  hope  to 
get  ashore  at  Jaffa,  before  twenty  hours  from  this.     We 
held  a  mock  meeting,  or  a  meeting  in  mock  seriousm 
and  elected  the  following  officers: — Esslinger  was  made 

captain — m\  friend  S.,  lieutenant — myself,  Burgeon — the 
good  ••  hu/./ar"  and  the  Jew,  baggage  tenders — and  Padre 
Germano  and  Mr.  S — tt.  chaplains,  with  equal  honors. 
The  latter,  with  Meiuherr  and  the  Jew,  to  do  any  little 
extra  fighting  in  which  our  party  might  be  inveigled. 
We  had  a  merry  time — a  speech  or  so  being  elicited  from 
several  members  of  the  Jerusalem  'party. 


Ship  MSandre — port  of  Jaffa  in  sight. 
Wednesday,  March  2d,  L859 


)ht.  \ 
59.  J 


I  must  open  the  leaves  of  my  Journal,  and  scribble 
down  the  passing  thoughts  which  hold  sway  in  my  bosom. 
And  such  thoughts!  Thoughts  to  which  I  cannot  find 
adequate  expression  in  words — thoughts  which  never 
before  flittered  through  my  soul.  The  hills  of  blessed 
Palestine  are  in  full  view  before  me,  and  those  beating- 
wave.-  in  the  distance  lave  the  shores  of  the  Holy  Land. 
At  length  my  wishes  are  fulfilled,  and  the  land  of 
Canaan  spreads  its  ample  and  sacred  fields  before 
Singular  are  the  transitions  in  our  life,  and  more 

gular  yet  the  change  in  time,  the  progenitor  of  these 
speedy  transitions.  It  is  a  circumstance,  or  rather  an 
existing  portion  of  man's  nature,  on  which  1  have  often 
dwelt,  in  musing  moods.  Due  year  ago,  this  day,  I  was 
in  Philadelphia — a  student  at  the  old  University  of  Penn- 
sylvania— frightened  out  of  n>;.  senses,  in  regard  to  one 


■O*  .. 


REMINISCENCES.  139 


grand  question — "  Would  I  or  would  I  not  receive  my 
diploma?"  That,  then,  was  the  all-important  item  of 
my  life,  and  the  whole  energies  of  my  animal  and  intellec- 
tual system  were  centered  on  obtaining  that  prize  for 
whose  possession  I  had  several  years  studied,  with  much 
zeal,  and  striven  for  with  a  devotion  worthy  of  the  cause 
or  of  a  better.  The  crisis  came,  and  the  shock  of  exami- 
nation's wars  fell  on  my  buckler,  but  that  buckler, 
fortunately,  was  strong,  and  the  fierce  darts  fell  power- 
less at  my  feet.  The  conflict  over,  I  wondered  why  I 
had  been  such  a/ooZ  as  to  be  frightened  at  such  an  array, 
and  almost  wished  the  contest  was  to  commence  again — 
Commencement  came — and  my  diploma  lay  quiet  in  my 
grasp  —  I  was  more  than  content.  Receiving  hearty 
congratulations  at  home,  I  turned  my  back  on  my  native 
country,  and  trusted  to  the  dangers  of  the  deep.  Since 
then,  varied  have  been  my  fortunes  —  through  many- 
lands  I  have  wandered — and  to-day,  I  am  in  sight  of  that 
sacred  port,  the  key  to  far  more  sacred  Jerusalem — old 
Jaffa,  the  same  port  where  Jonah  embarked  on  his 
memorable  voyage  to  Nineveh — where  the  cedar  from 
Lebanon,  for  the  building  of  Solomon's  temple,  was 
floated  in  —  where  Tabitha  was  resurrected  from  the 
dead,  and  where  Peter  "  abode  at  the  house  of  Simon, 
the  tanner — which  was  by  the  sea-side."  Well,  I  must 
let  my  thoughts  arrange  themselves,  and  spend  their 
novel  surchargings,  before  I  write  further.         *        * 

Since  writing  the  foregoing  hasty  snatches,  many 
events  have  transpired,  and  I  am  now,  as  it  were,  merged 
into  another  and  a  newer  era.     Since  writing  some  hours 


140  LANDING     iT    JAFFA. 


Bince,  I  have  trod  <>n  the  sacred  soil  of  the  Holy  Land! 
ular  baa  been  the  action  going  on  in  mv  mind,  Bince 
I  entered  here,  the  walls  of  ancient  Jaffa.  And  no 
wonder,  for  1  am  now  a  sojourner  in  thai  land  which  was 
the  chosen  of  God — which  afforded  the  stage  whereon 
the  grand  drama  of  the  Redemption  was  played,  and  had 
for  its  spectator,  the  whole  world.  Here,  then,  I  stand — 
in  the  land  o['  the  old  prophets — anion-'  the  hills  of  Pales- 
tine— whence  sprang  the  earliest  Light  of  civilization  and 
enlightenment.  Here.  Israel  and  his  host  of  descendants 
lived — here,  Solomon  and  David  and  Jesse — here,  in 
the  fields  of  now  neighboring  Bethany,  was  enacted  the 
scene  of  affection  between  Naomi  and  Ruth — here,  greater 
than  all,  was  horn  the  Saviour  of  mankind — the  man- 
born  Son — the  divinely-begotten  Jesus ;  and  this  sacred 
sod  which  now  crunches  beneath  my  loot,  once  received 
the  impress  of  His  blood-stained  sandal  !  And  can  it  be 
that  I.  too.  am  here,  and  am  surrounded  by  holy  ground? 
1  grant  me  power  to  enjoy  this  blessed  privilege  ! 

Quite  contrary  to  our  expectations,  yet  in  accordance 
with  our  fondest  hopes,  the  Meandre  was  enabled  this 
morning,  on  account  of  very  excellent  weather,  to  sail 
quit     '-lose  in  shore.     The  sea  was   very  favorable  to  our 

:  ling — and  after  some  delay,  and  much  gibbering 
among  the  natives,  who  came  on  board,  and  commenced 
wrangling  for  us  in  a  diminutive  Alexandrian  style,  we 
finally  were  seated  in  a  small  row-boat.  But  we  were  once 
more  delayed  by  Padre  Germano,  who  was  somewhere — 
or  anywhere,  but  in  tin;  right  place.  Finally  he  made  his 
appearance,  and  rolled  his  fat,  good-humored  self,  down 


LANDING     AT    JAFFA.  141 


among  us — signified  his  ease  and  content,  and  motioned  the 
boatmen  to  give  way.  But  lo !  and  behold,  good  John  Mon- 
tag  likewise  lingered  behind.  The  "  huzzar,"  however,  did 
not  keep  us  long  waiting,  for  he  soon  rushed  to  the  gangway, 
and  at  great  risk  of  going  overboard,  came  tumbling  down, 
and  fortunately  fell  in  the  boat,  while  his  favorite  expres- 
sion was  forced  by  the  shock,  from  his  lips,  "  Ach !  mein 
Gott !"  Our  little  boat  was  crowded  to  the  utmost,  and  I 
expected  every  moment,  to  see  the  water  come  in  over  its 
sinking  bows,  but  she  bore  up  well,  and  our  Arab  rowers, 
pushing  off  boldly  from  the  steamer,  bent  to  their  tasks 
and  landed  us  through  the  breakers,  with  ease  and  safety. 
As  we  dashed  over  the  long  swell  of  the  waves,  we 
wafted  a  lasting  farewell  to  the  Meandre,  and  those  who 
trod  her  planks. 

At  last,  we  reached  a  rickety  staircase,  leading  from 
the  water,  up  over  the  walls  which  skirted  the  shore. 
Here  our  crew  made  fast  the  boat,  and  one  by  one,  we 
ascended  the  steps.  Of  all  the  motley  crowds  I  ever 
saw,  we  there  made  our  way  through  the  motliest.  We 
were  completely  besieged,  every  miserable,  eyeless  pauper 
clinging  to  you,  and  motioning  frantically,  for  the  privilege 
to  carry  your  baggage.  On  all  sides  we  were  crowded 
and  jammed — our  way  blockaded,  and  the  "  sanctity  of 
our  persons"  threatened.  While  this  state  of  pressure 
was  existing  to  the  outer  man,  the  ear  was  deafened  with 
continued  phrenzied  cries,  "bakhshish-Hadji!  bakhshish.1"' 
which  our  Jew  boy  from  Blattner's  Hotel  informed  us, 
meant,  "  Gift  Pilgrim  !  gift !"  I  was  much  amused  during 
this  scene  of  hubbub,  at  the  alternate  shades  of  dismay, 


11-  LANDING     at    J  A  PPA. 

.iiid  then  the  Btoic  lines  of  solid  indifference  which  now 
and   then,  in  turn,  possessed  the  good   "huzzar's"   Face. 

He  knew  not  what  to  do.      More  than  once,  he  thrust  his 

hand  in  his  pocket  lor  money,  as  if  ho  half-way  imagined 
their  wishes,  but  then  some  unlucky  Aral)  would  tread  on 
Rieinherr's  toes,  and  in  return  Tor  this,  instead  of  receiving 
th>'  bounteous  hand,  he  would  send  the  offender  tumbling 

ial  pares  in  front  of  the  motive  power. 
We  finally  got  lull  under  way,  however — had  dis- 
tributed  our  quota  of  baggage  to  several  aspirants  in 
company,  who  settled  the  matter  l>\  fighting  for  the  prize, 
and  away  we  went,  with  our  gallant  Swiss  as  captain. 
We  first  proceeded  in  a  solid  phalanx  to  the  French 
consul's,  and  there  obtained  our  passports.  The  French 
consul  in  Jaffa  is  also  agent  for  the  company  of  the 
1  ssageries  hnperiales;  in  the  office  we  saw  our  gallant 
captain  of  the  Meandre,  and  once  more  said  to  him 
adieu.  The  consul  very  kindly  gave  us  some  information 
relative  to  travelling  to  Jerusalem — to  modes  of  travel — 
time  occupied — resting-places,  &c,  &c.  for  which,  coming 
as  it  did,  almost  unasked,  we  were  very  grateful.  We 
next,  under  the  guidance  of  the  aforesaid  Jew  boy,  who 
had  met  us  on  the  steamer,  proceeded  to  his  father's 
house — the  English  Hotel.  He  gave  me  his  card,  which 
1  here  copy,  verbatim,  punctuation  and  all. 


THE     "ENGLISH     HOTEL."  143 


ENGLISH  HOTEL 

by 

M.  BLATTNER 


!: 


JAFFA 
English,  Italian,  German,  and  Arabick  spoken        < 
fine  view  of  the  sea.  5 

I       I 

Such  is  Meinherr  Blattner's  card.  Where  it  was 
printed  I  know  not,  or  who  did  his  English  I  am  at  as 
great  a  loss  to  know.  Meinherr  and  his  sons  could  all 
speak  English,  but  as  to  writing  it  correctly — impossible. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  we  had  not  been  long  in  this  singular 
hotel  before  we  were  most  comfortable.  This  hotel  of 
M.  Blattner,  let  me  assure  all  who  should  ever  read  the 
pages  of  this  blotted  Journal,  is  nothing  like  what  we 
mean  by  hotel,  or  tavern,  or  inn,  or  house  of  entertain- 
ment, in  our  acceptation  of  these  words.  And  when  we 
mention,  rather  pompously r,  it  may  be — or  rather  as  M. 
Blattner's  card  shows  it — the  name  of  the  "  English 
Hotel,"  we  must  not  imagine  it  like  our  Exchange  Hotel 
in  far-off  Richmond,  Va.,  like  the  St.  Nicholas,  or,  on  this 
side  of  the  water,  like  Morley's  in  London,  or  the  Louvre 
in  Paris,  the  d'Angleterre  in  Frankfort,  the  Minerva,  or 
d'Allemagne  in  Rome.  No,  indeed,  such  is  not  the  idea 
to  be  realized  in  actual  vision.  I  cannot  describe  exactly, 
nor  anyways  adequately,  a  hotel  in  Syria.  It  is  an  insti- 
tution of  course  peculiar  to  the  country — I  mean  this 
species  of  Hotel  of  the  genus  hotel.     It,  our  hotel,  pos- 


Ill  in  i:    ••  i  NGLISB     ii"  i  1:1.." 

sed  011I3  one  or  two  resemblances  to  American  or  con- 
tinental hotels,  that  was.  in  having  a  separate  salh  <) 
manger,  and  in  the  beds,  which  bore  a  faint  resemblance 
to  ours.     We  climbed  into  our  hotel  through  a  narrow 

ston>  cylinder,  up  which  led  a  staircase,  and.  after  being 
in  these  narrow  quarters  for  some  time,  we  emerged  into 
a  narrow,  contracted  court,  in  which  were  stable,  kitchen, 
loafing-place  for  lazy  Arabs,  (!  reeks,  and  Turks,  and 
grand  receptacle  for  ever}  species  of  filth.  An  uninvit- 
ing aspect  diil  the  court  present,  hut  things  were  changed, 
and  tor  the  better,  when  we  entered  the  spacious  dining- 
room.  This  apartment  contained  two  or  three  Eastern 
lounges,  a  table  or  so,  boasted  a  iioor  of  cement,  and 
thick  walls  of  gray  granite.  The  prospect  from  the  win- 
dow was  superb;  looking  over  the  tops  of  the  houses  (for 
Blattner's  was  on  the  \en  summit  of  the  high  hill  on 
which  Jaffa  is  built),  and  far  over  into  the  sea,  we 
saw  the  good  Meandre  lying  at  her  anchorage-ground, 
quietly  acknowledging  the  power  of  the  swell.  It  was 
quite  grateful  to  stand  altogether  in  this  snug  and  cool 
apartment,  after  having  arrived  sale  once  more  on  Terra 
Firma.  ami  Terra  Santa  at  that,  and  view  at  our  ease  the 
pas-in-  strangeness  of  this  novel  world,  by  which  we  were 
now  surrounded.  We  immediately  ordered  dinner,  for 
we  were  as  hungry  as  fish-hawks,  our  stomachs  being  in 
that  peculiar  snappish  condition  left  generally  when  a 
voyage  at  sea  is  ended.  Our  baggage,  which  had  loitered 
behind,  now  suddenly  hove  in  sight,  accompanied  by  a 
consort  of  about  half-a-dozen  custom-house  officials.  When 
we  Landed  at  Jaffa,  we  anticipated  anything  but  trouble 


CUSTOM-HOUSE    OFFICIALS.  145 


in  regard  to  ffettms;  through  the  custom-house ;  for  we 
had  read  in  "  Murray's  Guide-Book  for  Palestine/'  by  Dr. 
Porter,  that  the  custom-house  was  extremely  lax,  its 
officers  being  accessible  by  the  most  trifling  bribes,  and 
that  "  custom-house,"  in  fact,  to  use  his  own  words,  was 
"but  another  name  for  bakhshish."  Trusting  in  this,  we 
found  ourselves  most  disagreeably  disappointed,  when  the 
guardians  of  our  baggage  placed  down  our  doomed  port- 
manteaus, &c,  and  when  the  officials  stepped  up,  and 
demanded  in  the  most  uncivil  of  tones  to  look  in  and 
view  our  effects.  We  had  nothing  on  which  a  duty  could 
be  exacted,  and  told  them  so,  offering  at  the  same  time  a 
pretty  heavy  bakhshish  to  pass  the  baggage,  as  we  were 
tired,  and  were  momentarily  expecting  something  more 
gratifying  from  Blattner's  larder.  What  was  our  sur- 
prise, then,  when  in  a  most  impudent  manner  they 
spurned  the  proffered  piastres,  and  rudely  seized  a  trunk, 
as  if  about  to  force  it  open.  The  unfortunate  property 
chanced  to  be  that  of  Meinherr,  the  "  huzzar,"  who,  when 
he  saw  the  probable  fate  of  his  effects,  gave  utterance  to 
his  favorite  "  Ach !  mein  Gott ;"  and  with  anger  beaming 
in  his  countenance,  he  threw  the  uncivil  Turk,  as  if  he 
were  a  child,  to  the  farther  side  of  the  room.  Instead  of 
this  doughty  act  of  the  brave  "  huzzar"  acting  against  us, 
and  raising  a  disturbance,  which  all  of  us  feared  would 
ensue,  it  had  the  good  effect  to  make  the  official  more 
polite.  But  the  scrutiny  with  which  they  searched  our 
baggage  I  have  never  seen  equalled  before  nor  since. 
Every  separate  article  was  overhauled,  taken  out,  well 
shaken,  and  then  left  out  for  us  to  rearrange.  But  they 
10 


I  Hi  r  11  i:     \  M  r  i;  [C  A  N     OON  ST3  L. 


found  nothing  for  which  the}  could  tax  our  purse.  When 
they  had  finished,  the  impudent  rascals  had  the  effrontery 

to  ask  of  us.  bakhshish.     It  w  as  all  1  could  do  to  prevent  my 

Georgia  friend  S.  from  applying  his  heavy  list  to  their 
craniums.  As  it  was,  he  took  them  severally  by  the 
collar  and  cast  them  indignantly  out  of  the  door.  He 
could  not  Btand  "adding  insult  to  injury."  Another  of 
cur  part)  also  made  uul\  demonstrations  with  his  hoot. 

\\\  about  half  an  hour  after  this  trouble  and  hubbub 
had  subsided,  ami  we  were  congratulating  ourselves  on 
the  'imn\  dinner  we  had  just  eaten,  the  gargon  of  the 
hotel,  the  aforesaid  Jew  hoy,  came  to  the  door,  and 
announced,  rather  pompously, — "  The  American  Consul!" 
<  >ur  curiosity,  which  was  thus  so  lively  excited,  was  im- 
mediately gratified.  As  the  words  left  the  Jew  boy's 
mouth,  in  came  a  splendid-looking  young  fellow,  in  a 
handsome  ami  most  costly  Aral)  suit,  lie  was  followed, 
at  a  respectful  distance,  by  his  enwass,  or  body  servant, 
holding  in  front  of  him  a  large  cane,  resembling  a  beadle's 
stall*,  with  which  he  thumped  the  floor  at  regular  intervals, 
as  hi-  master  proceeded.  At  his  side  he  wore  a  hand- 
Bome  sword,  though  his  superior  wore  no  visible  arms. 
We  welcomed  our  consul  as  well  as  we  could — but  he 
took  the  lead  of  us  in  good  manners,  and  welcomed  us 
mosl  warmly,  not  only  to  the  comforts  of  his  own  home, 
hut  to  Jaffa  particularly,  and  to  all  of  Terra  Santa 
generally.  I  cannot  think  of  the  young  man's  name. 
\\<-  is  a  native,  however — aot  a  "wilier  Awrriran\?) — 
but  none  the*  worse  ••  for  a'  that,"  and  is  proud  in  being 
o  ir  representative.     The  American  flag  flies  pretty  con- 


THE    BAZAARS.  147 


stantly  over  his  house,  the  consulate.  He  little  wots,  I 
am  thinking,  of  what  a  nation  he  is,  in  Jaffa,  the  exponent. 
Report  says  he  is  very  rich,  and  also  says  that  he  is  a 
most  efficient  officer.  I  think  his  sister  was  the  wife  of 
the  former  consul  here,  who  dying,  this  young  man,  the 
brother-in-law,  obtained  the  place.  I  must  say,  I  do  not 
think  it  could  have  been  better  filled.  After  taking 
coffee  with  us,  in  the  Eastern  style,  and  eating  an  orange, 
our  representative  arose,  and  having  once  more  pressed  on 
us  his  offer  of  hospitality,  he  left,  attended  closely  by  his 
watchful  and  richly-attired  caiuass.  Late  in  the  after- 
noon, we  saw  him  again. 

After  our  arrival  in  this  place,  we  learned  that  it  was 
almost  impossible  to  go  on  to  Ramleh  this  afternoon,  on 
our  way  to  Jerusalem,  as  horses  could  not  be  obtained  for 
love  nor  money.  Well,  we  could  not  alter  the  stern  decrees 
of  fate,  so  we  submitted  with  as  good  a  grace  as  we  could 
muster.  I  had  wished  to  sleep  in  Jerusalem  to-morrow 
night.  We  have  an  idea,  among  ourselves,  that  Blatt- 
ner  is  in  some  manner  instrumental  in  our  detention. 
But  be  that  as  it  may,  we  lost  nothing  by  remaining;  on 
the  other  hand,  our  gain,  I  consider,  has  been  increased. 
Under  the  guidance  of  Blattner's  sons,  we  bent  our  steps 
first  to  the  bazaars,  and  sauntered  slowly  through  them, 
gazing  at  the  many  sights  which  were  unfolded  to  our 
republican  view.  Singular  places,  or  hovels,  these  bazaars 
are.  The  word  bazaar  is  apt  to  strike  an  American,  or 
any  foreigner,  as  indicative  of  something  rich  in  all  the 
gorgeousness  of  Oriental  splendor.  Such  was  the  idea  / 
had  previously  entertained  concerning  bazaars;  and  my 


1  !  s  THE    BAZAARS 


surprise  was  consequently  great,  when,  impatiently  urging 
on  the  Jew  boy,  1  asked  why  he  did  not  take  us  through 
bo  the  bazaars;  and  his  reprj  was,  "  Why,  you  are  in  the 

bazaars  now."  1  looked  around  me,  through  the  dim  light 
which  struggled  down  through  the  roof!  The  bazaars 
resemble  a  covered  street,  or  rather  look  like  an  exagge- 
rated American  covered  bridge.  The  coarsest  wood-work, 
framed  just  strong  enough  to  support  itself,  and  to 
withstand  an  occasional  blast  that  conies  from  the  plain, 
is  erected  over  the  street;  beneath  it  are  the  many 
little  shops  forming  the  bazaars.  The  owner  of  the  bou- 
tiqiu  sits  always  cross-legged,  while  you  hear  issuing  from 
near  him  the  continual  gurgling  sound  of  his  scented  nar- 
_  leh.  The  seat  on  which  he  sits,  resembles,  in  my  esti- 
mation, more  a  blacksmith's  forge,  as  we  have  it  in  the 
country  in  America,  than  anything  else.  They  have  no 
counters  ;  but,  when  you  wish  to  buy,  they  bring  the 
articles  for  your  inspection  to  the  end  of  the  little  raised 
platform,  and  you  continue  in  the  street.  Here  you  stand, 
and  go  through  the  many  ceremonies  and  civilities,  and 
try  your  best  to  elude  the  fellow's  cheating  tricks.  And 
unless  you  have  been  well  practised  in  Yankee  Land,  you 
are  Bure  to  fall  a  victim  to.  the  Arab  sharper.  It  would 
prise  an  Arab  beyond  measure  if  he  could  be  suddenly 
transported  from  his  own  narrow  shop  to  Stewart's  palace 
in  New  York,  or  to  some  of  the  marble  palatial  stores  in 
Philadelphia.  Greater  surprise  would  be  his,  I  am  think- 
ing, than  would  be  that  of  our  grandfathers,  could  they 
from  the  grave  and  view  the  enormous  space  in  the 
racecourse  of  Progress,  over  which  we  have  strode  since 


THE    ORANGE    GROVES.  149 


their  troublous  day.  But  in  these  miserable  hovels  which 
are  dignified  by  the  name  of  bazaar,  I  saw  some  of  the 
most  superb  and  beautiful  articles  I  ever  beheld  in  any 
city  of  America  or  Europe.  The  most  costly  silks, 
scarfs,  and  weapons  abound.  If  I  was  surprised  to  learn 
that  these  miserable  buildings  were  the  bazaars,  I  was 
more  than  surprised  when  I  saw  a  lazy  Turk  take  down 
roll  after  roll  of  the  rarest  kinds  of  silks — silks  which  it 
seems  Damascus  alone  can  boast  in  all  their  purity.  We 
were  very  much  struck  with  some  fine  old  Arab  arms. 
Esslinger  endeavored  to  bargain  for  them,  but  he  was  too 
well  posted  in  Arab  rascality,  and  got  himself  skilfully 
out  of  a  rather  extravagant  offer  he  had  made  on  the  spur 
of  the  moment. 

We  continued  our  stroll  throughout  the  length  of  the 
bazaars,  and  next  took  our  way  toward  the  orange  groves. 
What  luxuriance,  what  richness  and  temptations  met 
our  eyes !  Oranges,  the  finest  I  ever  saw,  five  cents  a 
dozen,  and  eaten,  too,  on  the  hills  of  Judea !  Lemons, 
citrons,  and  oranges  exist  in  the  greatest  luxuriance,  and 
one  becomes  so  completely  habituated  to  the  sight  of  the 
large,  ripe,  drooping  clusters,  that  very  soon  the  appetite 
seems  sated.  It  was  some  time,  however,  spent  in  vigorous 
battle  with  the  juicy  opponents,  before  Meinherr  and 
myself  yielded.  Finally,  Meinherr's  usual  "  Ach  !  mein 
Gott !"  fell  from  his  lips,  and  while  he  complacently 
stroked  his  stomach,  he  continued — "  Ich  habe  genus:!" 
We  saw  many  apricots  of  the  finest  type,  and  afterwards 
ate  some  in  a  preserved  state,  at  the  hotel.  Our  host 
told  us  the  apricots  came  originally  from  Damascus.     We 


150  BOUSE    OF    S  1  M"N    Til  F.     r  a  N  N  i;i;. 


thru  slowlj  returned  toward  the  city,  and  were  fortunate 
enough  to  get  a  fine  view  of  Arab  horsemen  practising 
military  evolutions.  The  troopers  were  well  mounted,  but 
poorly  uniformed.  The}  are  surely  the  most  expert 
horsemen  1  ever  saw.  Tlnx  drop  the  reins  at  times, 
and  guide  the  horse  solely  by  the  heel,  while  they  east 
their  long  guns  high  in  air,  catch  them  again,  and  per- 
form many  teats,  in  fact,  which  more  than  astonish  even 
American  spectators.  As  we  neared  the  gate,  we  saw  a 
great  many  camels — some  standing  erect,  awaiting  the 
word  to  go,  and  obedient  to  travel.  They  are  veritably 
■•  ships  of  the  desert,"  and  can  withstand  the  fury  of  many 
gales  and  storms. 

We  think,  on  the  whole,  that  we  have  had  a  pretty 
I  introduction  to  Eastern  life  on  this,  our  first  day 
in  the  Holy  Land.  The  music  of  the  word  Holy  does 
not  jingle  well  with  the  clash  of  arms,  but  they  are 
mingled;  every  person  we  have  met  to-day,  every  native 
1  mean,  is  well  armed;  and,  for  protection,  and  for  moral 
suasion,  wi  follow  the  fashion  of  the  day.  It  can  do  no 
harm,  and  may  save  us  some  trouble.  Later  in  the  da)', 
and  it  was  our  last  exploit  in  sight-seeing,  we  visited  the 
house  of  ••  Simon  the  Tanner."  in  which  ahode  the  deny- 
in-  apostle.  It  feels  strange  to  crunch  under  our  heel 
the  same  sand  on  which  Peter  stood  eighteen  hundred 
years  ago,  and  it  is  with  indescribable  emotions  that  I 
now  think  of  that  fact  :  so  it  is.  The  house,  it  is  almost 
folly  to  think,  has  existed  since  that  distant  day  of  pro- 
phets  and  apostles;  it  is,  I  think,  several  hundred  years 
old — no  more;   hut  its  site  is,  without  doubt,  nearly  or 


MEET     AN     AMERICAN.  151 


exactly  the  same.  It  is  by  the  "seaside."  It  stands 
directly  on  the  sea,  on  the  top  of  a  small  bluff  overhang- 
ing the  tide-wash.  The  old  well,  too,  of  Scripture 
memory  stands  there  yet.  We  then  returned  to  the 
hotel,  and  partook  of  a  supper  which  was  equal  to  the 
dinner  which  Blattner  with  Eastern  hospitality  had  pre- 
pared. He  has  everything  extremely  well  cooked — 
though  cooked  as  it  is  in  a  land  long  forsaken  by  the 
light  of  the  gospel  and  of  civilization,  and  which  now 
withers  under  God's  curse. 

We  were  quite  agreeably  surprised  this  morning  at  meet- 
ing an  American.  He  is  a  preacher  of  the  Baptist  Church, 
and  has  often  delivered  sermons  at  old  Sansom  St.  Church 

in  Philadelphia.     His  name  is  Mr.  A s,  of  New  York. 

He  has  been  travelling  latterly  up  around  Jerusalem,  and 
has  returned  safely  to  Jaffa,  en  route  for  the  West.  He 
gave  us  news  of  the  Rev.  J.  Wheaton  S.,  who  has  been 
travelling  in  Syria,  and  to  whose  splendid  discourses  I 
have  listened  in  Philadelphia.  Our  minister  to  the  court 
of  Russia,  Ex-Governor  Seymour  of  Connecticut,  and  Mr. 
Johnson,  United  States  Consul  at  Beirut,  are  in  town 
also.  The  American  consul  here,  our  native  friend,  has 
had  the  stars  and  stripes  flying  all  day  in  honor  to  them. 
We  have  been  fortunate  enough  to  engage  horses, 
Moukary  (muleteer),  &c,  to  take  us  to  Jerusalem. 
We  pay  thirty  piastres  for  a  horse,  or  one  dollar  and 
twenty  cents,  in  American  money.  To-morrow,  at  10  A.  m., 
we  leave  Ramleh  ;  next  day,  Ramleh  for  Jerusalem ;  so 
by  Friday  night  we  hope  to  sleep  within  the  walls  of  El- 
Kuds.     God  grant  it. 


1   .-J  THE     A  DTHOR  S    STORY. 


Roman  convent)  Ramleh,  in  tin  Plain  of  Sharon, 
Thursday   March  3d,  L859. 

Before  proceeding  to  speak  of  our  present  whereabouts, 
1  will  write  a  little  more  of  antediluvian  Jaffa,  whose 
dull  gray  walls  now  lie  far  behind  us.  Last  night  we 
retired  at  quite  a  late  hour;  our  party  had  sat  up  until 
the  small  hours  hail  begun  to  draw  near.  I  was  called 
upon  tor  my  story,  and  in  substance  very  briefly  told  the 
following : — 

••  A-  haunted  stories  seem  to  be  in  vogue,  I  will  give 
one  which  was  told  me  by  a  friend  of  mine,  who  was 
well  acquainted  with  the  facts  of  the  case.  My  young 
friend  was  a  college-mate  of  mine,  and  among  other  inci- 
dent- of  his  youthful  life,  he  gave  me  this  adventure  : — 
One  eold  night  in  February,  IS — ,  a  jolly  crowd  had  col- 
lected  in  a  wayside  inn,  just  out  of  D.,  a  town  in  Massa- 
chusetts.  The  night  was  raw,  and  the  winds  bleak  and 
wintry,  as  they  came  trooping  over  the  cold  carpet  of 
snow,  and  singing  around  the  corners  of  the  old  inn  in 
doleful  pipings.  But  within  all  was  gladness  and  content- 
ment, for  a  large  wood  (ire  crackled  on  the  ample  fire- 
place, and  spread  light,  warmth,  and  joviality  through 
the  group.  Cider  and  sweet  potatoes  were  placed  in  great 
profusion  about  the  room,  and  all  seemed  to  he  joy  and 
Iness.  None  thought  of  the  stinging  winds  without, 
and  none  thought  how  cold  the  homeward  path  would  be. 
Lost  in  the  comfort  and  conviviality  of  the  present 
moment,  they  laughed  away  their  cares,  and  drowned  all 
thought  of  the  chilling  robe  of  snow  without  in  deep 
potations  of  the  'apple's  primary  juice.'      Thus  the  night 


the   author's   story.  153 


wore  on,  and  none  seemed  willing  to  make  the  first  move 
or  take  the  first  step  toward  breaking  up  the  party, 
which  sat  in  such  an  unbroken  circle  around  the  fire. 
The  hard  thought,  they  had  to  go,  each  would  quickly 
banish  from  his  mind  as  fast  as  it  arose,  and  each  strove 
to  eke  out  another  half-hour  or  so  by  the  genial  blaze. 
Stories  were  told  of  blood,  murder,  ghosts,  and  goblins, 
and  told  in  such  quantity  that  many  of  the  party  had 
serious  doubts  arising  in  their  minds  if  they  would  not 
patronize  the  roadside  inn  that  night,  and  go  home  by 
daylight  on  the  morrow.  And  some  older  and  more 
sedate  farmers  who  composed  that  group,  although  they 
had  loving  wives  and  several  children  at  the  other  end  of 
the  cold  walk,  who  doubtless  wTere  expecting  them,  and 
who  would  give  them  a  warm  welcome  home — these  same 
farmers,  I  say,  their  imaginations  somewhat  wrought  up, 
and  a  tale  or  so  of  graveyards  clogging  yet  their  brains, 
thought  also  it  was  imprudent  to  turn  out  on  such  a  night, 
and  concluded,  some  of  them,  to  stay  in  the  inn  also. 
The  company  was  just  about  separating,  bidding  each 
other  good-night  and  God  speed,  and  wishing,  and  very 
heartily  too,  that  many  such  occasions  might  be  theirs. 
Suddenly  the  quick  jingle  of  sleigh-bells,  and  the  grinding 
crunch  of  a  cutter,  were  heard  distinctly  by  all  those  who 
yet  remained  in  the  old  inn.  It  was  a  late  hour,  and  the 
night  was  raw  for  any  one  to  be  about  in.  The  sleigh 
stopped  in  front  of  the  large  door,  and  in  an  instant  a  step 
sounded  on  the  stone  staircase,  and  then  in  the  hall — and 
then  in  strode  a  tall,  bearded  fellow.  His  dress  was  in 
much  disarray ;  his  heavy  buffalo-skin  overcoat  was  wide 


1  5  I  Til  i:    \  i  thor's    story. 


open,  his  hair  hung  over  hia  face,  and  despite  the  tem- 
perature of  the  outside  weather  which  he  had  lately  Left, 
drops  of  perspiration  hung  in  beads  on  his  forehead. 
Il«'    left    them   not   long  wondering   as    to    Ids    mission. 

"Landlord,  he  said  in  quick  uervous  tout's,  'have  you 
a  horse  for  love  or  monej — sa^  yes,  for  a  horse  1  must 
have.      [mpatience  seemed  to  stamp  Ids  every  action. 

■■  Before  the  landlord  could  reply,  the  stranger — he  was 
a  Btranger  there,  for  none  in  the  company  know  him — 
commenced  again  :  'Think  me  not  strange,  gentlemen,  in 
going  about  my  business  before  I  was  polite  enough  to  say 
•-nod  evening'  to  you;  but  mine  is  doubly  a  matter  of 
life  and  death,  and  I  must  appeal  to  the  noble-hearted- 
ness  of  some  of  this  party — yet  listen  to  me,  and  I  will 
tell  you  the  case  briefly.  In  my  cutter,  which  stands  at 
the  door,  I  have  a  poor  sick,  dying  friend' — 'Let's  bring 
him  in  by  the  fire,'  spoke  quickly  the  generous  landlord, 
starting  off  to  the  door,  followed  by  several  of  the  warm- 
hearted tanners.  'On  no  account,' quickly  and  emphatic- 
ally spoke  the  stranger — 'on  no  account;  he  cannot  bear 
removal;  the  sands  of  his  life  have  nearly  run  out;  to 
move  him  would  be  to  murder  him.  That  poor  friend  of 
mine,  gentlemen,  reached  Boston  from  Europe  a  few  days 
He  came  home  to  die.  He  travelled  as  far  as  D. 
by  the  trains,  and  there  I  met  him  to  convey  him  to  his 
mother's,  the  widow  II..  who  lives  some  eight  or  nine 
miles  distant,  whom  [  suppose  some  of  you  know.'  Several 
nod-  of  assenl  greeted  his  interrogative  gaze.  'And  so  I 
IiTi  the  town  of  I).,  intent  on  my  mission  of  mercy. 
Jusl  as  I  neared  the  last  toll-gate  out  yonder,  my  servant 


THE     AUTHOR   S     STORY.  155 


met  me  there  in  great  haste,  told  me  by  all  means  to  fly 
with  the  greatest  haste  home,  that  my  house  had  been 
burned,  and  it  was  feared  my  wife  had  perished  in  the 
flames.  This  was  told  me,  gentlemen,  not  ten  minutes 
ago,  and  here  I  am,  appealing  to  your  kindness  and  aid.  I 
cannot  leave  my  friend  alone  ;  yet  I  must  relieve  this  awful 
suspense  of  mine  in  regard  to  my  wife  and  children.  If  the 
landlord  can  furnish  me  a  horse,  and  if  some  kind  friend 
present,  who  upholds  humanity's  teaching,  will  consent  to 
drive  my  poor  friend  in  the  sleigh  to  his  mother's,  then 
all  will  be  well.  The  latter  will  be  a  deed  of  charity 
which  man  nor  God  can  never  forget,  and,  added  to  this, 
a  suitable  recompense  I  will  pay  immediately  myself.' 

"  The  landlord  said  he  could  lend  him  a  horse,  and  as 
he  spoke  a  young  and  robust  farmer  arose  and  signified 
his  readiness  to  the  stranger  to  see  the  sick  man,  his 
friend,  safe  to  his  mother's,  but  he  did  not  wish  any 
money  for  his  action — if  he  could  do  one  good  act,  that 
in  itself  would  reward  him.  The  stranger  gladly  accepted 
the  offer,  and  after  vainly  endeavoring  to  press  money  on 
the  young  man  who  was  so  disinterestedly  kind,  he  bade 
all  a  hast}^  good-night,  mounted  the  landlord's  horse  which 
had  been  brought  to  the  door,  and  soon  he  clattered 
quickly  out  of  sight,  the  horse-hoofs  ringing  over  the  hard 
snow-crust,  as  he  rushed  at  a  rapid  pace. 

"  The  young  farmer  drew  on  his  overcoat,  adjusted  his 
heavy  gloves  to  his  hands,  and,  warming  himself  with 
another  mug  of  cider,  he  bade  all  a  cheerful  good-night, 
opened  the  door,  and  strode  through  the  snow  to  the 
sleigh.     There  sat  the  poor  sick  man,  bolt  upright;  so 


1 56  rHE     \  i    mow   s    STOB  v 


cold  and  rigid,  thai  the  young  man  at  first  thought  he 
was  frozen.  "1  have  consented  to  take  you  to  your 
mother's,  sir,  for  your  friend,  and  am  Borry  thai  I  kept 
you  waiting  so  Long — hope  you  are  nol  very  cold,  sir.' 
No  replj  came  from  the  sick  man.  The  young  farmer 
thought  a  little  Btrange  of  this,  but  he  fancied  he  saw  the 
invalid  make  a  Bign  of  impatience,  and,  without  Baying 
further,  he  Bprang  into  the  cutter,  arranged  the  thick 
robe,  and  started.  The  horse  in  the  meantime  had  rested 
»d  deal,  and  moved  off  at  a  smart  trot. 

••  Some  distance  was  traversed  thus,  and  as  yet  the  sick 
man  had  not  opened  his  lips.  The  young  farmer  re- 
marked this,  but  attributed  his  silence  to  averseness  to 
conversation,  when  he  knew  his  days,  nay,  his  very 
hours  and  minutes  were  numbered,  and  that  he  was 
-training  every  point  to  reach  his  aged  mother's  lap  and 
then  expire.  So  our  young  philanthropist  said  nothing, 
merely  remarking  occasionally  the  beauty  and  brightness 
of  the  moon,  and  the  stinging  coldness  of  the  night,  or 
making  use  of  some  such  casual  expressions, 

••  At  last,  when  about  four  of  the  eight  miles  had  been 
accomplished,  and  not  a  word  had  as  yet  been  deigned  in 
reply  to  the  farmer,  the  cutter  drew  near  a  dark  tangled 
wood,  through  which  it  was  necessary  to  pa<s  in  order  to 
reach  the  widow  H/s.  The  road,  or  jxifh,  along  which 
they  hail  to  go — it  was  nothing  more — was  quite  narrow, 
and  withal  was  in  very  bad  condition,  and  as  the  snow 
lay  in  it  in  unequal  drifts,  it  was  at  times  indeed  a  difficult 
matter  to  force  the  cutter  through.  They,  however,  had 
Bafely  reached  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  at  the  base  of  which 


the   author's   story.  157 


a  small  streamlet's  bed  presented  to  them  a  ditch  of  some 
size.  To  surmount  this  in  safety  to  the  patient,  and  to 
the  cutter,  was  a  matter  of  some  difficulty.  The  moon 
peeped  over  the  jagged  tops  of  the  snow-laden  pines,  and 
shone  down  its  cold  argentine  beams  on  the  sleigh  and 
its  silent  occupants;  nothing  could  be  heard  but  the 
grating  runners,  and  the  labored  breathing  of  the  faithful 
steed  as  he  struggled  heroically  to  do  his  part.  A 
sudden  exertion  of  his  full  force  carried  the  cutter  tri- 
umphantly across  the  gulley,  but  the  jolting  motion  of  the 
sleigh  was  so  great,  that  it  upset  the  equilibrium  of  the 
invalid,  who,  until  then,  in  spite  of  jolts  and  tumbles,  had 
kept  a  perfectly  motionless  and  upright  position,  and  he 
fell  heavily  against  the  young  farmer.  This  latter  person 
thought  he  would  immediatelv  recover  his  accustomed 
position ;  but  no.  He  gently  raised  him,  spoke  to  him, 
and  asked  him  if  he  was  hurt — no  reply.  He  felt  his 
face — the  shock  was  so  icy  to  Ms  already  frozen  hand 
that  it  chilled  him  to  his  heart.  He  raised  him  up,  and 
pushed  back  the  cap  which  had  been  dragged  over  his 
brow. 

"  A  deathly  sight  met  his  gaze.  The  cold,  stony  eye, 
set  and  upturned  in  the  rigors  of  death — the  stiff,  fallen 
jaw — the  drooping  tongue — the  bloodless  lips,  told  him 
emphatically  he  sat  with  one  who  now  had  joined  Death's 
skeleton  band.  He  gently  eased  the  dead  man  down; 
and  as  he  did  so,  the  scarf  which  had  been  wound  around 
his  neck  dropped  off,  and  revealed  to  the  young  farmer's 
now  terrified  gaze  a  large  cut  in  the  neck  under  the  left 
ear,  from  which  even  now  the  clotting  blood  was  slowly 


1  ">s  nil     author's    STOK  v. 

oozing.  It  was  an  awe-inspired  feeling  that  reigned  in 
the  farmer's  bosom.  Alone  with  a  corpse — with  the 
corpse  of  a  murdered  man — on  this  raw,  bleak  night,  at 
midnight's  hour,  and  in  a  sleigh  with  an  exhausted  horse! 
••  I  lis  feelings  were  far  from  being  enviable.  What  should 
he  do?  casl  oul  the  body,  and  endeavor  to  make  his  way 

hack  and  tell  how  it  realh  was.  or  invent  a  story  to  suit 
circumstances?  Of  course  he  would  not  think  of  going 
OH  to  the  Widow  11.  s.  It  was  all  a  well-devised,  though 
atrocious  hoax — a  method  of  shifting  responsibilities — and 
to  this  well-laid  scheme  he  had  been  made  the  dupe.  lie 
determined  to  act  the  part  of  an  honest  man,  at  all 
events — to  let  justice  take  its  way.  and  to  further  its  ends 
in  all  that  he  could.  He  slowly  turned  his  horse  around, 
ami  silent lv  commenced  to  urge  the  patient  steed  toward 
the  roadside  inn. 

••  Before  he  had  gone  many  miles,  he  was  met  by  a 
party  of  men — going  whither  he  could  not  divine,  at  this 
time  of  night.  They  asked  him  immediately  what  was 
the  object  he  had  reclining  in  the  sleigh.  Imprudently 
he  evaded  their  questions;  and  finally  told  them  it  was  a 
d'ad  man.  proceeding  at  the  same  time  to  give  a  plain, 
unvarnished  statement  of  the  whole  affair.  They  laughed 
at  him — said  they  saw  through  it  all — said  it  was  fortu- 
nate they  had  met  him,  and  ended  by  telling  him  they 
arrested  him  in  the  name  of  the  law. 

"  This  was  a  dilemma,  indeed  ;  hut  all  the  farmer  could 

they  laughed  ;it.    The  poor  man  could  say  nothing;  he 

had  no  witnesses.     I  [e  was  taken  from  the  sleigh  and  placed 

behind  one  of  his  captors,  and  thus  rode  solemnly  into  the 


the   author's    story.  159 


town  of  D.,  one  of  the  party  at  the  same  time  occupying 
the  cutter.  Well,  the  former  stood  his  trial  for  murder ; 
and  being  defended  by  good  counsel,  and  good  character, 
was  miraculously  acquitted;  but  the  stain  of  suspicion 
of  murder  hung  to  him,  until,  a  few  years  after,  a  pastor 
was  called  to  see  a  dying  man  in  Sing  Sing  Prison ;  who, 
among  other  things,  confessed  the  murder  of  the  young 
man  in  Massachusetts — that  he  had  invented  the  stories 
in  the  tavern,  and  had  succeeded  in  fixing  the  guilt  of 
the  murder  on  the  wrong  individual  —  and  that  he  had 
the  murderer  arrested  by  a  party  he  sent,  having  assured 
them  that  foul  play  was  going  on,  on  that  road.  The 
dying  murderer  gave  all  the  names,  and  begged  the 
good  priest  to  give  publicity  to  the  facts  told  him,  as  he 
wished  to  make  some  reparation  to  a  good  man.  But  the 
most  interesting  part  of  this  narrative  was,  that  the  young 
farmer  was  my  young  friend's,  my  college-mate's,  father  ! 
'Many  a  time,'  said  my  friend,  'did  my  father  beguile 
his  children  with  this  tale  of  his  midnight  sleigh-ride  with 
a  corpse.' " 

After  I  had  concluded  my  story,  I  looked  around  to  see 
the  effect  it  had  produced.  Some  were  half  asleep;  others 
paying  a  semi-divided  attention  to  me  and  a  plate  of  sliced 
oranges ;  and  I  fancied  I  heard  Meinherr,  to  whom  Ess- 
linger  was  translating  my  yarn,  give  utterance  to  his  usual 

k'Ach!  inein  Gott!  Herr  T.  ist  ein ."     I  could  not 

determine  what  the  remainder  was,  for  Meinherr  with- 
drew with  a  candle  and  sought  his  room.  Shortly,  all  of 
us  followed  suit,  and  sought  the  sweetest  repose  of  man's 
life,  only  to  be  found  in  "  slumber's  pleasing  chains."   Rev. 


L60  SYRIAN     MAIL    SERV  [CE. 


Mr  S — tt  and  myself  occupied  a  nice  airy  room,  over- 
looking the  dark  depths  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  from 
the  windows  n\'  which   we  gazed  Long  on  the  sleeping 

Turkish  town.  Thoughts  on  thoughts  crowded  through 
our  minds  as  we  stood  1>\  the  humble  casement  of  that 
Eastern  hotel,  and  recalled  things  of  sacred  import,  while 
we  Looked  on  the  flat-topped  houses  of  Jaffa.  But 
wearied  nature  gradually  yielded  to  her  own  "sweet 
restorer."  and  it  was  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction  that  wo 
touched  the  nice  clean  sheets  which  good  Blattner  had 
spread  for  us. 

The  dawn  came,  and  in  sport,  I  fired  a  percussion  cap 
on  my  pistol,  and  awoko  my  different  sleeping  companions. 
We  soon  descended,  and  partook  heartily  of  a  good 
meal — another  triumph  of  our  Jewish  host  in  the  culinary 
department.  We  loitered  about  the  town  again  for  an 
hour  or  two,  and  in  our  ramble  we  saw  a  j^ortion  of  the 
mail  «  rrice,  as  conducted  in  Syria.  This  consisted  of  two 
genuine  Arabs,  I  should  take  them,  dressed  in  rather  a 
fanciful,  hut  very  picturesque  style.  These  men  bring 
the  mails  from  Jerusalem  to  the  sea-coast,  and  return 
with  the  mails,  they  get  at  Jaffa,  to  Jerusalem.  If  I  am 
not  misinformed,  they  travel  on  foot,  too,  yet  it  is  said 
they  make  better  time  thus  than  horsemen  do.  That  is 
poor  encouragement  to  us,  and  we  Tiave  procured  horses  too ! 
Our  consul  called  on  us  again  to-day;  just  after  he  left, 
in  came  the  chaplain  of  the  Macedonian,  United  States 
ship  of  war,  which  we  saw  lying  at  Alexandria.  He  was 
accompanied  by  an  American  missionary,  by  the  name 
of  Sanders,  ;i   kind,  submissive,  meek-looking  gentleman, 


AN     AMERICAN     MISSIONARY.  161 


who  seemed  to  be  in  distressing  health.  I  do  not  know 
to  what  denomination  Sanders  belongs.  He  remarked 
to  Mr.  S — tt  that  he  received  very  little  spiritual 
encouragement,  and  thought  his  labors  as  a  pastor,  and 
as  shepherd  of  a  flock,  were  far  from  being  blessed. 

A  hard  lot  that  poor  man's  must  be — away  out  in  that 
heathen  port.  It  is  little  indeed  that  he  is  thought  of  in 
his  own  native  land,  where  the  pave  is  crowded  on 
Sabbaths  with  satinned  shoes — where  the  rustle  of  silks 
grates  richly  on  the  ear,  and  where  princely  furs  protect 
the  fair  wearers  who  go  to  God's  house  to  advertise  some 
dry-goods  establishment.  Little  indeed  think  they  of  his 
labors.  What  a  contrast  is  presented !  But  both  are 
Christians,  and  both  are  sure  of  heaven's  shining  crown. 
The  one  reaches  that  happy  goal  because  the  money  in 
her  husband's  coffers  can  be  made  into  ladders,  by  which 
she  can  climb  into  paradise ;  the  other  enters  more 
easily — "  Faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ"  is  his  watch- 
word— but  so  wags  the  world. 

The  chaplain — I  think  his  name  is  Bixley,  or  something 
like  it — has  been  travelling  around  Jerusalem,  but  he 
came  away,  and  forgot  a  mission  with  which  he  had  been 
charged ;  so  he  requested  Mr.  S — tt  to  bring  him  some  of 
the  dirt  from  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane — that  was  the 
mission ;  and  the  dirt  Mr.  S — tt  was  to  deliver  to  him  in 
Rome,  where,  the  chaplain  says,  he  will  be  when  Mr.  S — tt 
returns.  They  bade  us  good-bye,  and  left  with  many 
"  God  speeds." 

At  last  everything  was  settled  up,  our  bill  at  Blattner's 
receipted,  and  each  mounting  the  first  horse  he  reached,. 
11 


62  Bl  BLIGA  l.    EVENTS    IN     J  A  PPA. 


we  rode  bIowVj  iii  a  single  UK'  cavalcade  out  of  the  gates. 
We  presented  rather  an  imposing  show,  and  in  fact  formed 
quite  a  caravan.      Bach   of  us  was  well   mounted,  ami 

.•arli  armed  with  -1111.  pistol,  or  knife.  As  we  gradually 
left  the  place,  ami  wound  our  way  through  the  saml\ 
Lanes,  bordered  by  the  gigantic  cactus,  many  thoughts  of 
this  old  city,  renowned  biblically  and  historically-  Hashed 
through  my  willing  brain.  By  reference  to  '_!  Chronicles, 
we  find  that  it  was  at  this  port  where  was  floated  in  the 
cedar  from  Lebanon  destined  to  aid  toward  the  erection 
of  Solomon's  magnificenl  temple.  In  the  l(>th  ver.se  of 
the  2d  chapter  we  read  as  follows:  "And  we  will  cut 
od  out  of  Lebanon,  as  much  as  thou  shalt  need:  and 
we  will  bring  it  to  thee  in  floats  by  sea  to  Joppa;  and 
thou  shalt  carry  it  up  to  Jerusalem."  The  preposition 
must  indicate.  I  suppose,  a  rising  country;  but  we  will 
before  we  reach  the  city  of  the  Great  King.  It  was 
in  Jaffa  that  Peter,  as  he  prayed  on  a  house-top,  beheld  a 
singular  vision — it  was  there  he  heard  the  voice  in  refer- 
ence  10  the  clean  ami  unclean  beasts,  and  which  bade 
him  eat  "what  God  hath  cleansed"  (Acts  x.  15).  It 
was  in  Jaffa  also  that  the  great  Apostle  raised  "a  certain 
ciple  named  Tabitha"  to  life.  "  But  Peter  put  them 
cdl  forth,  and  kneeled  down  and  prayed;  and  turning  him 
to  the  body  said.  Tabitha,  arise.  And  she  opened  her 
eyes,  and  when  she  saw  Peter,  she  sat  up"  (Acts  ix.  40). 
It  was  from  Jaffa  the  rebel  Jonah,  wishing  to  shun  Nine- 
veh and  gel  rid  of  his  unwilling  mission  thither,  em- 
barked  to  Tarshish,  whither  he  found  "a  ship  going:" 
••-«  he  paid  the  fare  there  >f,  and  went  down  into  it,  to 


MASSACRE     AT    JAFFA.  1G3 


go  with  them  unto  Tarshish  from  the   presence  of  the 
Lord"  (Jonah  i.  3d  verse).     According-  to  Joshua  xix.  46, 
Jaffa  was  given  to  Dan,  one  of  the  sons  of  Israel.     It 
was  then  called  Japho,  and  has  changed  very  little  since 
then  ;  as  Porter  says,  "  a  remarkable  instance  of  the  ten- 
acity of  Shemitic  names."    It  is  coeval  with  the  flood,  and 
has  a  history  since  then  which  will  make  one  ask  the 
question — "and   is  it  indeed  true  that /stand  in  Jaffa?" 
In  its  history,  I  refer  to  an  incident  which  occurred  in 
Jaffa  in  March,  1799.     It  was  a  deed  of  blood — a  deed 
which  for  ever  darkens  the  name  of  one  of  earth's  greatest 
heroes.     It  was  here  that   four  thousand  human  beinscs 
were  immolated    on  the  altar  of  Napoleon    Bonaparte's 
proud  ambition.     "  On  the  4th  of  March,  1799,  Yafa  was 
invested  by  the  French  under  Napoleon.     In  two  days  a 
breach  was  made  by  the  cannon  and  declared  practicable. 
The  town  was  carried  by  storm,  and  delivered  over  to  all 
the  horrors  of  war,  which  never  appeared  in  a  form  more 
frightful.     During  this  scene  of  slaughter  a  large  part  of 
the  garrison,  consisting  chiefly  of  Albanians,  took  refuge 
in  some  old  khans,  and  called  out  from  the  windows  that 
they  would  lay  down  their  arms  provided  their  lives  were 
spared  ;  but  otherwise  they  would  fight  to  the  last  extrem- 
ity.    Two  officers,  Eugene  Beauharnais  and  Crosier,  Napo- 
leon's own    aides-de-camp,   agreed   to  the    proposal,   and 
brought  them  out  disarmed  in  two  bodies,  one  consisting  of 
2-100  men,  and  the  other  of  1500.     On  reaching  the  head- 
quarters Napoleon  received  them  with  a  stern  demeanor, 
and  expressed  his  highest  indignation  against  his  aides-de- 
camp for  attempting  to  encumber  him  with  such  a  body 


1 1'  I  MASSACRE     v  i     .1  \  FFA. 


of  prisoners  in  the  famishing  condition  of  hie  army.  The 
prisoners  were  made  to  sit  down  in  fronl  <>!'  the  tents, 
their  hands  tied  behind  their  backs.  Despair  was  alreadj 
pictured  in  every  face,  for  the  relentless  frown  of  the 
general,  and  the  gloomy  whispers  of  the  officers,  could  not 
be  mistaken.  Bui  no  cry  was  uttered,  no  semblance  of 
cowardice  exhibited.  With  the  calm  resignation  cha- 
racteristic  of  the  Muslem  spirit  and  faith,  they  yielded  to 
their  fate.  Bread  and  water  were  served  out  to  them, 
while  a  council  of  war  was  summoned  to  deliberate.  For 
two  days  the  terrible  question  of  life  or  death  was 
debated.  Justice,  common  humanity,  were  not  without 
their  advocates;  hut  savage  barbarity,  under  the  name 
yA'  political  necessity,  prevailed.  The  committee  to  whom 
the  matter  was  referred  unanimously  reported  that  they 
should  be  put  to  death,  and  Napoleon  immediately  signed 
the  fatal  order  ! 

••  On  the  loth  of  March  the  fearful  tragedy  was  brought 
to  a  close.  The  whole  of  the  prisoners  were  marched 
down  to  the  sand-hills  on  the  coast,  firmly  fettered;  and 
there  they  were  ranged  in  small  squares,  for  execution. 
The  French  soldiers  were  drawn  up  in  front,  with  a  full 
supply  of  ammunition.  A  few  minutes  were  allowed  the 
victims  to  prepare  for  death.  In  the  stagnant  pools 
among  which  they  were  placed,  the}  performed  their 
ablutions  according  to  the  rules  of  their  faith,  and  then 
uttered  a  few  words  of  prayer.  Taking  each  others' 
hands,  alter  having  placed  them  on  their  hearts  and  on 
their  lips,  they  gave  and  received  an  eternal  adieu.  They 
made  a  Last  appeal — not  to  the  humanity  of  Frenchmen, 


POISONING    OF    CAPTIVES.  165 


for  that  they  saw  would  be  useless,  but  to  the  capitulation 
by  which  their  lives  had  been  guaranteed.  The  only 
answer  they  heard  was  the  command  for  the  soldiers  to  fire. 
Volley  after  volley  was  poured  in  upon  them.  For  hours 
together  nothing  was  heard  but  the  rattle  of  musketry 
and  the  shrieks  of  the  wounded  and  dying.  One  young 
man  burst  his  bonds,  threw  himself  among  the  horses  of 
the  French  officers,  and,  embracing  their  knees,  passion- 
ately implored  them  to  spare  his  life.  No  wild  Bedawy 
of  the  desert  *  could  have  resisted  such  an  appeal;  yet 
Frenchmen  sternly  refused,  and  he  was  bayoneted  at 
their  feet.  An  old  chief,  slightly  wounded,  had  strength 
enough  left  to  hollow  out  with  his  own  hands  a  rude 
grave  in  the  soft  sand ;  and  there,  while  yet  alive,  he 
was  interred  by  his  followers — themselves  sinking  into 
the  arms  of  death.  After  the  massacre  had  lasted  some 
time,  the  horrors  that  surrounded  them  shook  the  hearts 
of  many,  especially  the  younger  part.  Several  broke 
their  bonds,  clashed  into  the  sea,  and  swam  to  a  ridge  of 
rocks  beyond  the  reach  of  shot.  The  troops  made  signs 
to  them  of  peace ;  and  when  they  came  back,  murdered 
them !  Four  thousand  human  beings  were  thus  butchered  ; 
but  the  vengeance  of  Heaven  followed  their  murderer  to 
the  rocks  of  St.  Helena !" 

Another  act  of  Napoleon — a  twin  to  the  one  above 
recorded — was  the  poisoning  of  five  hundred  captives,  by 
Napoleon's  orders.  This  occurred  in  the  present  Arme- 
nian Convent,  which  the  French,  prior  to  Napoleon's 
retreat  to  Egypt,  occupied  as  a  hospital.  It  is  a  favorite 
theme  for  condemnation  with   the  English.     Besides  the 


1  6  PLAIN    OF    SHARON. 


\  nenian  Convent,  used  as  above  stated  at  one  time  for 
a  hospital,  there  are  two  others — the  Greek  and  the  Latin 
— Imt  they  are  all  small,  as  are  three  Mohammedan 
mosques  which  were  shown  us  in  the  town.  There  are 
said  to  be  in  Jaffa  some  antique  columns  and  pillars 
taken  from  A.scalon,  bui  although  1  instituted  minute 
inquiry,  I  was  unsuccessful  in  finding  them.  I  hope  to 
do  SO  when  1  return  to  the  ancient  port.  Jaffa  contain-. 
1  understand,  in  the  neighborhood  of  six  thousand 
inhabitants — the  greater  pari  being  Muslems.  Chris- 
tians number  aboul  one  thousand,  and  uative  Jews  aboul 
two  thousand.  Jaffa  has  a  rickety  wall  towards  the  sea. 
bui  it  could  he  easily  scaled,  as  its  defence  consists  in  a 
tew  old  puis,  which  are  never  manned. 

We  had  a  lovely  and  most  pleasant  ride  from  Jafl'a 
through  the  fertile  Plain  of  Sharon,  and.  as  we  dashed 
in  hilarity  of  spirit-  over  the  level  fields,  we  entertained 
hopes  that  our  journey  to  Jerusalem  would  not  he  such  an 
arduous  affair  after  all — but  to-morrow's  sunset  will  deter- 
mine that  point.  For  several  miles  we  had  Aral)  com- 
pany. Several  horsemen  seemed  to  be  awaiting  us  as  we 
issued  out  at  the  gate  leading  from  Jaffa,  and,  uninvited, 
joined  our  cavalcade.  They  jogged  alowg  with  us  until 
it  was  evident  to  them  we  were  a  "slow  coach."  and  so 
they  -purred  away,  and  left  us  to  ourselves.  'Idle  Plain 
of  Sharon  is  a  beautiful  level  tract  of  country,  overspread 
with  a  thick  carpel  of  variegated  flowers,  stretching  as 
far  ahead  a-  we  could  see.  Numerous  dry  torrent  beds 
-      I'd  the  outspread  tract,  hut  verdant  groups  of  flowers 


A     DECAYED     TOWER.  1G7 


clustering  on  their  gulches,  in  rich  profusion,  compensated 
for  the  disfiguration. 

Sharon  and  Philistia,  in  ancient  times,  joined,  and 
many  great  cities  stood  on  their  united  plains ;  but  they 
are  now  all  dead  and  sunken  for  ever.  "  Sharon  is  like  a 
wilderness,"  and  the  cities  of  Philistia  are  fallen.  Gaza 
is  "  forsaken,"  Ascalon  "  a  desolation,"  Ashdod  is  "  driven 
out,"  and  Ekron  "  rooted  up."  And  as  we  galloped 
through  this  land  of  biblical  record,  and  thought  of  what 
once  existed  here,  our  feelings  can  be  far  better  imagined 
than  described. 

Our  pace  was  good,  and  at  half  past  three  we  reached 
Ramleh ;  and  here  we  are  now.  We  have  stopped  at  the 
Latin  convent,  and  are  indebted  now  to  Spanish  Catholics 
for  the  hospitality  of  the  night.  To  tell  the  truth, 
thanks  to  Esslinger's  knowledge  of  Italian,  we  are  now 
most  comfortably  fixed. 

After  we  had  indulged  in  a  good  cold-water  wash,  we 
sallied  out  as  fresh  as  ever  to  take  a  look  around  the 
town.  About  half  a  mile  from  the  convent  we  came  to  a 
large  wall  enclosure,  and  in  it  was  an  old  decayed  tower. 
It  stands  on  the  site  of  what  was  once  a  large  khan — 
built  in  1310  by  the  Khalif  Nasr  Mohammed  ibn 
Kalawun,  and  is  spoken  of  as  the  ivhite  toicer  by  Arabic 
writers.  It  was  about  sunset  when  we  reached  this  spot, 
and  as  fortune  would  have  it,  we  were  just  in  time  to 
hear  an  Arab  go  through  with  his  prayers.  In  fact,  it 
was  his  howls  and  shrieks  and  unearthly  sounds  that 
first  attracted  us.  The  man  was  high  up  in  the  tower, 
and  his  prayer  consisted  in  sound.     I  could  not  under- 


\\      OCCIDENT. 


stand  the  substance  of  a  monotone — spun  out  to  such  n 
length,  that  before  he  concluded,  1  had  sketched  the 
old  tower,  which  I  herewith  present.  Some  one  said  to 
Meinherr  thai  this  resembled  his  haunted  tower  in  Fater- 
land  near  Heidelberg,  and  suggested  thai  the  noisy  some- 
body in  it  was  nothing  other  than  his  Satanic  majesty, 
uder  Tuyfel."     To  this.  Meinherr  cocked  his  gray  eye- 

iws,  ami  very  vehemently,  as  usual,  uttered — "Ach! 
mein  Gott!"  I  never,  in  my  life,  saw  liner  specimens 
of  cactus  than  those  which  grow  here  around  Jaffa,  in 
perfed  chaparals.      We  saw  also   and  .gathered  some  very 

iitiful  single  whorl  flowers,  which  Esslinger  asseverates 
is  the  far-famed  rose  of  Sharon,  and  he  pretends  to  be 
"posted"  on  these  matters.  We  were  much  struck,  in 
passing  through  the  burying-ground,  with  the  manner  in 
which  graves  are  left  open.  They  are  all  left  with  a 
large  opening  at  the  Toot.  1  had  the  curiosity  to  peer 
down  into  one.  and  my  gaze  was  satisfied  with  the  sight 
of  some  hall' dozen  bleached  skulls,  and  arm  and  leg  bones 
in  any  quantity.  It  forcibly  reminded  me  of  my  dissecting- 
room  day 8.  When  returning  to  the  convent,  an  accident, 
which  came  near  being  serious,  befell  one  of  our  party, 
in  which  I  was  a  participator.  S.  and  sell'  were  casting 
stones  at  a  species  of  hawk,  which  were  so  tame  that 
the  birds  would  alight  within  ten  yards  of  you,  and  would 
only  fly  when  we  sent  a  stone  whizzing  by  them.  S. 
wished  some  of  the  birds  for  the  purpose  of  stuffing  them, 
hut  fearing  to  use  his  gun.  he  trusted  to  stones.  He 
chanced  to  step  before  me  just  as  I  had  propelled  with  my 
full  force  a  heavy  missile.     It  fell  full  on  his  unprotected 


A     PRETTY     VILLAGE.  1G9 


head,  and  he  dropped  like  one  who  had  been  shot.  He 
rose  again,  but  staggered  and  fell.  Finally,  I  got  him  to 
his  feet ;  he  is  the  coolest  fellow  I  ever  saw.  He  would 
not  complain,  though  at  a  slight  examination  I  found  his 
pulse  went  flighty  and  irregular;  and  now  he  is  laboring 
under  decided  concussion  of  the  brain.  1  am  doing  my 
best  for  him.  His  scalp  is  cut  considerably,  but  his  cra- 
nium is  uninjured. 

To-morrow  morning  at  six  o'clock  we  leave  here  for 
Jerusalem.  It  is  a  long  and  hard  ride  over  a  tall,  rough, 
and  flinty  mountain  path — there  is  no  road. 

This  little  place  in  which  we  are  now  so  snugly  settled, 
and  whose  name  signifies  "  sandy,"  is  a  pretty  village, 
situated  immediately  in  the  Plain  of  Sharon.  It  is  inter- 
sected everywhere  with  cactus  hedges,  while  an  occasional 
broad-leaf  palm  adds  beauty  to  the  whole  scene.  The 
appearance  the  houses  present,  is  (like  all  Arabic  towns) 
very  singular.  They  are  all  perfectly  flat-topped,  and  are 
built  apparently  of  a  dull,  heavy  mortar,  which  gives 
them  a  gray,  unrelieved,  monotonous  appearance.  The 
country  around  us,  however,  looks  so  odd,  that  it  is  pleas- 
ing to  a  stranger  even  in  that.  In  a  favorite  author  of 
mine,  and  from  whom  I  have  several  times  quoted,  we 
find  the  following  succinct  account  and  history  of  Ram- 
leh:— 

"  In  history  there  is  no  mention  of  Ramleh  earlier  than 
the  ninth  century ;  and  Abulfeda  states  that  it  was 
founded  in  the  early  part  of  the  eighth  century,  by  the 
Khalif  Suleiman,  after  he  had  destroyed  Ludd.  The 
same  fact  is  recorded  by  William  of  Tyre,   and  others. 


I  ,  0  II ISTOH  v    ok    i;  a  M  i.i  11. 


Tlir  town  Boon  rose  to  importance,  partly,  perhaps,  from 
it-  situation  at  the  intersection  of  the  great  roads  from 
Damascus  to  Egypt,  and  from  Yafa  to  Jerusalem.  In  the 
twelfth  century,  the  geographer  Edrisi  calls  Ramleh  and 
Jerusalem  the  two  principal  cities  of  Palestine.  Before 
the  time  of  the  Crusades,  Ramleh  w;is  surrounded  by  a 
wall  with  twelve  gates;  four  of  these,  opening  towards 
the  cardinal  points,  had  markets  and  mosks  attached  to 
them.  On  the  approach  of  the  Crusaders  in  L099,  the 
city  was  deserted  by  its  inhabitants,  and  immediately 
occupied  by  the  Christians,  who  recruited  their  exhausted 
strength  on  the  provisions  the  fugitives  had  left  behind 
them.  Here  the  Crusaders  held  a  great  least  in  honor 
of  St.  George,  and  formally  installed  him  as  their  patron, 
on  account  of  the  miracle  he  had  wrought  in  their  favor 
at  Antioch.  The  homage  paid  to  him  here  prepared  the 
way  tor  his  advancement  to  higher  honors.  England  soon 
adopted  him.  and  other  countries  of  Europe  followed  the 
example. 

••The  position  of  Ramleh  made  it  a  post  of  great  im- 
portance during  the  crusading  wars.  In  the  year  1187, 
after  the  fatal  battle  of  Ilattin,  the  town,  with  the  whole 
plain,  fell  into  the  hands  of  Saladin;  but  four  years  later 
the  approach  of  Richard  of  England  changed  the  aspect 
of  affairs.  The  Muslems  destroj-ed  the  castle  lest  the 
English  should  occupy  it.  But  notwithstanding  this,  the 
town  became  the  headquarters  of  Richard,  and  the  plain 
around  it  was  the  scene  of  many  of  his  daring  exploits. 
Qn  one  occasion,  at  the  Feasl  of  All  Saints,  when  riding- 
alone,  he  came   upon  a  hand  of  Turkish  scouts,  attacked 


I 


HISTORY     OF     RAMLE1I.  171 


them,  killed  some,  cut  the  head  off  a  noble  admiral  with 
one  blow,  and  chased  the  remainder  to  the  foot  of  the 
mountains !  On  another  occasion,  however,  he  is  said  to 
have  found  a  wild  boar  a  more  formidable  adversary  than 
the  turbaned  Muslem ;  for,  after  a  hard  struggle,  he  came 
off  with  a  broken  lance  and  wounded  charger.  In  the 
truce  between  Richard  and  Saladin,  made  in  1192,  it  was 
stipulated  that  the  plain  and  coast  from  Tyre  to  Yafa, 
including  the  half  of  Ramleh  and  Lydda,  should  remain 
in  the  hands  of  the  Christians.  In  1202,  Ramleh  wras 
entirely  given  up  to  the  Crusaders,  and  remained  in  their 
possession  until  1266,  when  it  was  finally  captured  by 
Sultan  Bibars." 


CHAPTEB  VIII. 

Prussian  Hospice,  Jerusalem.  | 
Friday,  4th  March,  L859.  ( 
T   A.M  in  Jerusalem!     At  last  I  stand  in  the  holiest  of 
holies,  ami  my  greatest   earthly  wish  is  now  satis- 
fied.    It  is  a  difficult  matter,  too,  seated  as  I  am 
here,  in   a   snug  cosy  room  by  a  grateful  heat,  to 
realize  that  I  am  in   the  City  of  the   Saviour — Him  who 
was  tin'  mightiest    Prince  of  David's  royal   line,  and  that 
I  have  trod  those  same  streets  which  He  and  His  disciples 
walked  eighteen  hundred  long  years  ago — over  which  the 
army  of  Roman  Titus  rushed  in  former  days,  and  spread 
abroad  havoc  and  desolation — where,  in  fine,  have  been 
enacted    some   of   the    strangest    scenes    that   were   ever 
played  on  the  stage  of  time  in  the  theatre  of  life.      Can  I 
indeed  believe  that  I  have  gazed  on  sacred  (  Mi  vet's  sloping 
green,  and  on  Gethsemane's  divinely-honored  enclosure? 
Ay!    the  answer  is  a   blissful    affirmative.     Here  I  am, 
thousands  of  mile-  from  home,  with  two  deep  oceans  roll- 
id  waters  between,  and — I  sin  nil  in  the  home  of 
David  and  Solomon,  of  Peter  and  John  and  JESUS!     It 
bere  the  Btirring  events  of  their  lives  robed  them  in 
:i  name,  and  with  a  fame,  which  have  been  handed  down 

to  US,  and  which  will  be  known  as  long  as  time  lasts.     It 

(172) 


"^-%J 


DISSATISFACTION.  173 


was  here  Jesus  Christ,  the  humble  Nazarene,  spent  a 
pious  life  endeavoring  to  sow  better  seed  from  which  a 
richer  and  more  abundant  harvest  would  spring  up ;  and 
here  He  played  the  most  terrible  role  in  the  grand  drama 
of  Man's  Redemption — affording  spectacular  scenes  which 
convulsed  the  earth — yet  which  by  their  exhibition  saved 
the  world  from  universal  condemnation.  No  man  knows 
the  morrow ! 

This  morning  when  we  arose  at  Ramleh,  my  friend  S. 
was  a  good  deal  better,  thanks  to  the  antiphlogistic  effects 
of  cold  water.  In  fact  he  is  a  wonderful,  incomprehensi- 
ble fellow ;  I  cannot  understand  him — or  his  physical 
nature — at  all.  His  system  possesses  singular  recupera- 
tive powers ;  this  morning  he  was  in  the  saddle  sooner 
than  any  man  in  the  party.  He  has  an  iron  constitution, 
and  a  will — material  or  non-material — which  can  be 
described  by  the  same  metallic  adjective.  We  left  the 
convent  and  our  Spanish  entertainers,  not  very  well 
pleased  at  our  treatment — at  least  Esslinger  and  myself 
were  very  much  cfo'-spleased.  When  we  reached  the  con- 
vent last  evening  we  had  every  reason  to  congratulate 
ourselves  on  our  safe  arrival  at  such  a  comfortable  stop- 
ping-place; but  when  the  miserable  supper  was  }3laced 
before  us,  hungry,  famished  men  as  we  were,  things 
began  to  wear  a  different  aspect.  We  did  not  complain, 
however,  but  went  to  bed  half-starved — we  were  seeking 
their  hospitality,  and,  being  "  beggars,"  we  could  not  of 
course  arrogate  to  ourselves  the  right  to  be  "choosers." 
But  this  morning  the  breakfast  was  ivorse  than  the  supper 
of  the  previous  evening;    and  when  we  were  about  to 


171  PATH  I'K     G  ERM  \  No. 


leave,  Esslinger  gave  the  Padre  who  attended  on  us  one 
yapoleon.  Whal  was  our  surprise  when  he  showed  evi- 
dent signs  of  displeasure — even  of  anger!  Bui  Esslinger 
was  obdurate,  and  we  had  decided  thai  a  Napoleon 
was  all  thai  we  could  disburse  for  such  hospitality;  so  we 
very  leisurely  rode  away — no  doubl  accompanied  by 
many  Battering  anathemas.  Writing  the  word  "Padre" 
reminds  me  of  our  fal  friend.  Father  " Germano  di  Geru- 
salemme."  'That  good-natured  and  well-conditioned  priest 
came  to  see  us  yesterday  morning  in  Jaffa  before  we  left 
thai  town,  and  expressed  his  greal  concern  that  he  could 
not  accompany  us.  as  he  had  intended,  to  Jerusalem. 
Church  matters  detained  the  worthy  friar,  and  so  we  bade 
him  an  affectionate  adieu.  He  quite  won  on  us  before 
our  voyagings  together  were  over;  he  embarked  with  us 
at  Naples  aboard  the  "  Quirinal,"  and  we  saw  him  several 
times  in  Valetta.  but  it  was  after  we  came  aboard  the 
Meandre  that  the  good  Padre  and  ourselves  became  well 
acquainted.  1  hope  to  see  him  again.  Last  night  Mr. 
g — tt  and  myself  had  a  long  and  hearty  laugh  at  an 
adventure  with  which  my  poor  wounded  friend  met;  I 
cannot  record  it  for  several  reasons;  it  will  do  to  tell,  hut 
not  to  //•/•//' . 

For  three  hour-  after  we  left  Ramleh,  we  rode  over 
what  is  a  continuation  of  the  Plain  of  Sharon,  along  a 
tolerable  path— though  the  fields  owing,  to  recent  heavy 
rains,  were  very  muddy.  At  the  expiration  of  the  above 
time,  we  reached  the  mountains — and  then  commenced 
our    trial-  and   troubles!      In    all  my  life,  I   never  passed 

er  Buch  ;i   miserable,  h<>rr'i<l  road !     Up  and  down,  and 


NEARLY     AN     ACCIDENT.  175 


vice  versa — we  were  continually  picking  our  way,  over 
flinty  rocks,  and  jagged  thorn-bushes.  All  the  time,  as  I 
take  it,  our  necks  were  in  immediate  danger ;  and  thus 
we  literally  dragged  out  six  hours  !  It  was  killing — and 
so  it  came  near  being  to  Esslinger  in  reality.  His  horse 
was  endeavoring  to  make  a  step  which  would  place  him 
some  three  feet  higher  than  he  already  was — we  were 
climbing  over  a  tall,  beetling,  flinty  cliff — and  the  noble 
animal  lost  his  footing,  and  fell,  carrying  Esslinger  back- 
ward to  the  ground  beneath  him.  My  Swiss  friend, 
however,  was  in  a  twinkling  on  his  feet,  completely 
unhurt.  Had  his  gun  been  capped,  the  load  from  two 
barrels  would  have  passed  through  my  body ;  I  was 
immediately  behind  him,  and  in  a  direct  line.  Th rough- 
out  our  journey  we  met  many  Arabs — all  well  mounted, 
and  well  armed.  While  passing  along  a  jagged  stony 
path,  through  the  mountains  at  one  portion  of  the  way, 
we  saw  several  savage-looking,  semi-clad  fellows,  creeping 
and  skulking  about  behind  the  gray  rocks — with  their 
long  brass-banded  guns  slung  over  their  shoulders.  Our 
moukary  Hassan,  when  he  saw  them,  motioned  us  to  close 
up  in  more  compact  order,  and,  as  well  as  we  could  under- 
stand his  lingo,  advised  us  to  continue  so.  /  took  his 
advice,  and  was  ever  afterwards,  close  to  our  good  mouk- 
ary's  heels  over  hill  and  dale,  and  stock  and  stone.  But 
the  men  we  saw,  I  imagine  were  peaceful  shepherds ;  they 
were  not  handsome  fellows  it  is  true,  and  grace  the  hills 
of  Palestine  better  than  they  would  the.  salons  of  the 
French   capital.     Their    arms    were   the    only   warlike 


176  MISS  INC      WINK. 


pretension  they  claimed,  and  they  are  worn  by  the  most 
peaceful  and  well-disposed. 

1  thought  once  we  Dever  would  stop  to  take  our  lunch 

— which,  owing  to  our  slim  breakfasl  at  the  convent,  was 

anticipated    with    much    pleasure.       On    and    on,    Hassan 

urged  hia  little  donkey,  and  in  spite  of  our  frequent 
reminders,  he  would  not  stop  until  he  was  ready. 
Finally    we  drew    a  glad  rein,  on  a  small  green  grassy 

hill,  where  were  profusely  scattered  the  ruins  of  a  house. 
of  a  day  Longagone.  We  were  here  very  much  amused  ata 
scene  between  Esslinger  and  Hassan,  our  worthy  guide 
and  muleteer;  the  former  asseverating  that  Turk  or  no 
T" /■/,-.  Hassan  surely  drank  a  bottle  of  our  wine — and 
turbaned  Hassan  denied  most  positively  the  "soft 
impeachment."  We  finally  concluded  the  contest  by 
exonerating  Hassan,  and  attributed  the  broken  neck  of 
the  bottle,  and  the  consequent  spillage,  to  rough  treatment 
the  said  bottle  had  received  at  the  convent  in  Ramleh. 

After  having  refreshed  ourselves  by  a  good  lunch, 
which,  lit  me  state,  we  brought  with  us  from  Blattner's, 
in  Jaffa,  and  having  rested  our  weary  limbs  for  an  hour 
or  so — we  once  again  sprang  into  the  saddle,  and  com- 
menced our  tedious  journey  afresh.  On  and  on  we 
staggered  and  clambered,  trusting  solely  to  the  sure- 
footedness  of  our  cautious  steeds ;  and  it  is  really  sur- 
prising what  a  degree  of  sagacity  some  of  these  animals 
-how.  The  one  I  bestrode  was  a  rather  stout,  but  very 
well-knit,  blood  bay,  with  a  step  as  on  steel  springs.  I 
noticed  his  intelligence,  once  or  twice.  In  going  up  or 
down   a  path   along  which   our  route  lay,  whenever  he 


KIRJATH-JEARIM.  17 


came  to  a  loose  stone,  he  would  first  place  his  foot 
cautiously  upon  it,  and  bear  gradually  down ;  if  it  gave 
way,  or  threatened  treachery,  he  would  move  several 
rods  out  of  the  way — but  would  universally  choose  a 
safer  route  to  master  and  steed.  I  have  become  quite 
attached  to  the  prudent  little  fellow,  and  only  wish  I  had 
him  in  far  away  old  Virginia. 

On  our  way  we  passed  several  mud  villages,  clinging 
in  clusters  to  the  rough  hill-sides.  We  finally  came  to 
one  of  some  note — biblical  and  otherwise.  I  refer  to  old- 
times  Kirjath-jearim — which  is  now  known  as  Kuryet  d 
'Enab.  The  most  remarkable  memories  which  cluster 
around  this  miserable  spot,  are  those  connected  with  the 
Ark  of  the  Covenant,  which  here  rested  for  twenty  years. 
By  reference  to  1  Sam.  vi.-xxi.,  we  read  in  regard  to  the 
Philistines  sending  back  the  Ark :  "  And  they  sent 
messengers  to  the  inhabitants  of  Kirjath-jearim,  saying, 
The  Philistines  have  brought  again  the  ark  of  the  Lord ; 
come  ye  down  and  fetch  it  up."  This  old  town  once 
belonged  to  the  tribe  of  Juclah,  and  was  the  stand-point 
to  wThich  several  of  the  dividing  lines  of  the  children  of 
Israel  were  carried.  We  have  reference  made  to  "  Kir- 
jath-baal,  which  is  Kirjath-jearim,"  in  Josh,  xviii.  14, 15, 
28, — x.  17 — in  1  Chron.  xiii.  5,  6, — in  2  Chron.  i.  4,  &c. ; 
but,  as  I  have  mentioned,  the  chief  interest  attached  to 
the  dilapidated  village  lies  in  the  fact  that  here  once 
reposed  the  Ark  of  God's  Covenant.  There  is  a  modern 
notoriety  connected  with  the  place  also, — from  the  fact 
that  it  had  been  for  several  years  the  headquarters  of 

one  of  the  most  blood-thirsty  robbers  that  ever  infested 
12 


17s  A  Ul       (.  II  A  I    Ml. 


Palestine,  On  his  accounl  the  village  fares  badly  for  ;> 
•I  reputation  al  this  time;  and  it  was  with  sonic  slivht 
Misgivings — knowing  the  character  of  the  place  from 
hearsay — thai  we  slowly  rode  1»\  the  decaying  mud  wall. 
^  e  momentarily  expected  to  sec  a  score  of  long-barrelled 
barddeJis  thrust  at  us  from  the  corners  of  the  narrow 
streets.  Bui  we  only  saw  a  few  Arabs — a  wild-looking 
set  tlir\  were — seated  together  in  a  lazy  group,  carelessly 
smoking  their  long-stemmed  chibouks.  The  fearful  bandit 
of  whom  I  have  spoken,  was,  not  very  long  ago,  taken 
prisoner  by  the  Turkish  authorities,  and  carried  to  Con- 
stantinople, where  he  died  a  miserable  death  in  jail. 
This  I  have  learned  to-night,  since  I  have  been  within 
the  walls  of  Jerusalem.  Had  I  known  it  five  hours  ago, 
my  heart  would  not  have  beaten  so  irregularly. 

Dr.  Porter,  from  whom  1  have  quoted  several  times,  says, 
in  regard  to  this  robber:  ••There  are  the  hereditary  man- 
sions of  the  family  of  the  once  celebrated  chief,  Abu  Gffiavsh, 
whose  daring  robberies  and  cold-blooded  murders  for  a 
Ion--  time  kept  the  whole  country  in  terror,  Turkish 
pachas  included.  The  wild  ravine  down  which  the  road 
leads  from  the  mountain  ridge  west  of  the  village,  to  the 
it  plain,  was  often  the  scene  of  his  exploits.  His 
safe-conduct  was  necessary  to  clear  the  pass;  and  woe 
betide  the  solitary  traveller  or  heavy-laden  caravan  that 
attempted  it  without  his  permission!  On  one  occasion, 
two  pacha-  were  -hot  dead,  in  the  midst  of  their  retinues, 
by  this  daring  bandit.  At  last,  however,  after  nearly 
half  a  century  of  power  and  crime,  the  tardy  vengeance 
of  the  Turkish  government  overtook  him.      The  chief 


samuel's   birth-place.  179 


himself,  and  a  number  of  his  principal  men,  were  seized 
in  1846,  and  sent  to  Constantinople.  The  subsequent 
fortunes  of  three  of  them  were  told  to  Dr.  Robinson,  by 
a  member  of  the  family.  One  had  died  in  banishment ; 
another  was  still  an  exile  in  Bosnia ;  and  a  third,  after  a 
banishment  of  five  years,  spent  at  Widdin,  had  returned 
home  the  previous  year  (1851).  A  number  of  the  family 
still  occupy  the  village,  and,  though  forced  by  circum- 
stances to  be  a  little  more  circumspect,  their  character 
has  not  much  improved." 

It  is  a  dark  wild  gorge  in  which  Kirjath-jearim  is 
situated,  and  I  was  heartily  glad  when  we  had  left  it 
several  miles  behind  us. 

After  this  historically  interesting  village,  we  passed 
several  others,  but  none  of  any  importance.  About  two 
miles  beyond  Kirjath-jearim,  however,  we  came  to  the 
reputed  house  in  which  Samuel  was  born !  It  is  nothing 
but  the  remnants  of  a  mud  wall,  perched  high  up  on  a 
mountain,  and  looking  barren,  silent,  and  cheerless  enough. 
Further  on  yet,  Hassan  showed  us  a  small  field  between 
two  high  hills,  in  which,  he  gravely  informed  us,  took 
place  the  remarkable  duel  between  David  and  the  giant 
of  the  Philistines.  It  seems  singular  for  us  to  imagine 
such  things  as  true ;  yet  many  of  them,  per  force  of 
evidence,  circumstantial  and  otherwise,  we  must  admit  as 
veracious — or  at  least  plausible. 

After  surmounting  man}'  and,  it  seemed,  interminable 
difficulties,  we  at  last  commenced  climbing  a  high  moun- 
tain, from  the  top  of  which  Hassan  promised  us  a  view 
of  the  Holy  City.     At  length  we  were  satisfied ;  Esslinger 


I  vii  ii  RST    SIGH  r    OF    J  EB  I  S  \  LEM. 


reached  the  summit  first,  and  mj  gallant  Little  steed  bore 
me  in  just  behind  him.  There  la\  Jerusalem — the  "lone, 
widowed  Queen" — full  before  our  gaze ;  its  compact  build- 
ings clustered  on  a  rough,  ragged  height  ;  no  bustle — 
murmurings  of  mankind's  bus}  cares — and  no  signs  of 
animated  life  meeting  the  eye.  It  was  a  solemn,  yet  a 
pleasing  sight,  to  see  the  minarets,  mosques,  and  grim, 
-ra\  walls  flashing  back  the  fading  fires  of  the  western 
sun. 

One  must  not  imagine  the  .sight  of  Jerusalem,  as  it 
hursts  on  the  view,  to  he  grand  and  sublime,  as  is  the 
ease  with  murky  London  and  the  French  capital.  It  is 
a  mere  handful  of  houses,  as  compared  to  those  cities; 
yet,  as  we  stand  and  silently  contemplate  the  nestling 
city  before  us.  a  holy  charm  pervades  the  scene,  and  fills 
our  inmost  souls  with  the  serencst  and  most  exquisite 
pleasure  that  ever  thrilled  the  thinking  being.  The 
swelling  dome  of  Omar's  proud  mosque,  beneath  which 
reposes  the  "  Holiest  of  Holies" — the  broad,  square  outline 
of  the  Tower  of  Ilippicus,  or  house  of  King  David — the 
tall,  arched  roofing  over  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepul- 
,.],,,. — and  the  just  visible,  swelling,  beauteous  brow  of 
the  .Mount  of  Olives,  all  lay  in  sight.  My  feelings  were 
like  those  of  a  dream;  1  could  scarcely  realize  that  my 
brain  was  performing  its  rightful  function.  1  drew  my 
pistol  from  my  belt,  and  discharged  it  in  the  air.  As  its 
loud  report  fell  on  our  ears,  the  spell  which  held  us  was 
dispelled,  and  each  of  us  uttered  exclamations  of  joy  and 
wonder,  as  the  full  force  of  our  novel  position  came  up 
before  our  minds.      Our  moukary  and  his  attendants  cast 


WITHIN     THE     WALLS.  181 


themselves  from  their  horses,  and  crying  El-Kuds !  El- 
Kuds  !  (the  Holy  !  the  Holy !)  prostrated  themselves  on 
the  ground. 

We  rode  slowly  on,  over  a  broad  plateau  of  rough 
shrubs,  and  stones,  and  with  feelings  which  none  can 
describe,  we  in  a  few  moments,  more  solemnly  entered 
the  Jaffa  Gate,  and  stood  within  the  walls  of  Jerusalem  ! 
Strange  emotions  those,  that  flashed  through  my  mind — 
but  they  were  not  allowed  to  remain  in  possession  of  my 
bosom  long ;  for  the  swarm  of  Arab  and  Turkish  boys 
that  surrounded  us,  was  perfectly  awful !  Among  the 
motley  crowd,  was  a  runner  from  the  Mediterranean 
Hotel — a  Greek  I  take  him  to  be.  He  speaks  English 
and  Italian  well — he  is  a  most  importunate  fellow !  and 
even  said  that  he  knew  our  desires,  and  our  necessaries, 
better  than  vie  ourselves  did!  He  even  asserted  most 
authoritatively  that  we  should  go  with  him  to  his  Hotel. 
But  Esslinger,  whom  we  had  elected  Captain,  had  made 
other  arrangements ;  so  pushing  the  fellow  rudely  and 
decisively  aside,  he  motioned  us  to  come  on,  and  we 
followed  Hassan,  who,  obedient  to  Esslinger's  orders,  was 
leading  the  way  to  the  Prussian  Hospice.  Our  Jew  friend 
whom  I  have  mentioned  before  in  this  Journal,  was 
met,  just  before  we  entered  the  gate,  by  his  joyous  family, 
who  reside  here.  He  is  living  here  engaged  in  a  dyeing 
establishment ;  he  anticipates  great  riches.  He  promised 
to  call  in  at  our  quarters,  here.  When  we  had  fairly 
entered  the  city,  we  had  to  dismount  and  go  afoot,  as  the 
stones  were  very  slippery,  and  some  of  the  descents  and 
ascents  very  sharp.     I  never  before  saw  such  streets — not 


1  82  111  i:     PR  l   SSI  V  N     HOS  PII   E. 


wide  enough  for  two  horsemen  abreast,  and  so  steep  and 
broken  that  it  Looks  like  a  needless  risk  of  life  to  ride 
down  them.  We  were  the  object  of  much  wonder  as  we 
walked  through  the  streets,  speaking  English  and  German 
— but  their  garb  and  themselves — touie  ensemblt — were 
sights  equally  as  novel  to  our  gaze.  .M\  pistol,  purchased 
in  Naples, — hanging  in  my  belt,  seemed  to  attract  the 
avaricious  eyes  of  several  young  warlike  Arabs.  Finally- 
however,  we  arrived  at  the  Prussian  Hospice,  where  we 
had  previously  determined  to  "  put  up,"  while  we 
sojourned  in  Jerusalem.  And  here  we  are  all  now-,  and 
most  comfortably  "fixed,"  too.  We  have  had  coffee  and 
coarse  bread,  and  are  much  refreshed.  While  I  am 
writing  these  words,  our  company  congratulate  them- 
selves on  our  safe  arrival  in  this  ancient  city.  This 
hospice  in  which  we  have  been  so  fortunate  as  to  obtain 
lodgings,  is  supported  at  the  expense  of  the  Prussian 
Turnout,  and  is  solely  intended  for  the  entertainment 
of  travellers.  It  is  a  snug  and  most  comfortable  place; 
but  a  rery  singularly  constructed  establishment,  withal — 
genuine  Eastern  style,  of  course.  A  high  wall  or  founda- 
tion looks  on  the  street,  and  on  it  the  house  proper  is 
erected.  We  climb  up  a  narrow  wooden  staircase  from 
the  Btreet,  and  step  into  a  court  about  forty  feet  square; 
around  this  enclosure,  the  house  is  built.  The  kitchen 
is  directly  in  front  of  the  door  from  the  street.  We 
end  a  flight  of  stairs,  leading  from  the  first  court, 
and  come  to  a  terrace — here  are  the  best  rooms.  Mr. 
S — tt  and  myself  occupy  one.  Another  short  staircase 
Leads  to  another  terrace,  where  is  situated  the  room  which 


DR.     BARCLAY.  183 


has  been  assigned  to  Esslinger,  S.,  and  the  "  brave 
huzzar."  Another  flight  of  a  few  steps  leads  to  the 
"  wall"  or  top  of  the  house,  from  which  a  fine  view  is  to 
be  had,  and  where  I  expect  to  pass  many  evenings, 
despite  the  temperature,  which  is  anything  but  pleasant. 
Our  room  is  very  airy,  and  the  thermometer  is  very  low. 
In  coming  from  Ramleh  to-day,  the  sun  was  so  hot  in 
the  valley  as  to  burn  my  face  as  "  brown  as  a  berry" — 
in  fact,  so  excessive  was  the  heat,  that  I  panted  as  if 
I  was  laboring  through  one  of  July's  hottest  days.  But 
here  in  Jerusalem,  it  is  quite  different ;  the  winds  whistle 
ominously  around  the  buildings,  and  through  the  narrow 
streets,  and  the  sky  wears  a  threatening  snowy  aspect. 

From  our  window,  we  have  a  fine  view  of  Mt.  Scopus, 
Mt.  Olivet,  Church  of  the  Ascension,  a  small  portion  of 
the  present  Silwan  (or  ancient  Siloam),  Valley  of  Jehosh- 
aphat,  the  Hill  of  Evil  Advice,  the  Mosque  of  Omar, 
and  Mt.  Zion.  What  holy  feelings  necessarily  pervade 
us,  as  these  sacred  objects  are  thrust  on  our  view  ! 

After  we  had  partaken  of  coffee,  Mr.  S — tt  called  on 
the  missionary,  Dr.  Barclay,  who  is  so  favorably  known 
by  his  elaborate  work,  the  "  City  of  the  Great  King."  He 
has  just  returned,  with  an  invitation  to  our  party  to  repair 
thither  in  the  morning,  and  take  our  "first  comprehen- 
sive (?)  view  of  Jerusalem  from  Mt.  Zion,"  whereon  the 
Doctor  resides.  Mr.  S — tt  reports  that  he  became 
acquainted  with  a  young  lady  at  Dr.  B.'s  from  Virginia ! 
I  mention  this,  because  it  seems  .so  singular  that  a  young 
lady  should  be  here  from  Virginia.  A  long  way  from 
home  she  is ! 


Jnj  FIRST     WIGHT     IN     JERUSA  LEM. 


Bui  1  musl  close  m\  Journal  1  believe  1  could  write 
all  night;  but  I  need  deep,  and  it  waxes  late,  and  I  must 
be  refreshed  in  order  to  enjoy  the  Bacred  sites  and  Bcenery 
wound  me. 

The  bub  has  sunk  to-nighl  on  me  in  Jerusalem — this 
same  sun.  eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  witnessed,  in  neigh- 
boring Bethlehem,  the  birth  of  the  humble  Nazarene; 
and  afterwards  turned  red  at    His   Bufferings  OH  Golgotha, 

up  yonder!     Singular!  and  yet — not  singular. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Prussian  Hospice,  Jerusalem.  1 
Saturday,  March  5th,  1859.  j 
('^r^HIS  nas  been  a  singular  day  to  me — singular,  be- 
cause surrounded  by  so  much  of  oddity,  that  my 
position  has  been  painfully  novel.  We  did  not 
rise  from  our  comfortable  beds  until  quite  a  late 
hour  this  morning ;  we  needed  rest  from  the  fatigue  yes- 
terday's labor  entailed  on  us;  and  so  we  courted  the 
Sleep-God  until  ten  o'clock,  and  were  loth  even  then  to 
loosen  his  embrace. 

Having  partaken  of  a  rather  simple  breakfast — one 
in  which  we  were  much  deceived — we  started,  en  masse, 
for  the  residence  of  Dr.  Barclay,  to  fill  Mr.  S — tt's 
engagement  of  last  evening.  We  were  most  hospitably 
received  by  Dr.  B.,  at  his  home  on  Zion — and  we  were 
most  agreeably  entertained,  and,  though  in  Jerusalem, 
in  real  "  Old  Dominion"  style.  I  am  much  afraid  that 
out  peculiar  costume,  chosen  in  accordance  with  the  rude 
nature  of  the  country,  did  not  do  honor  to  our  worthy 
hosts.  We  satisfied  ourselves,  after  we  withdrew,  with 
the  reflection  and  hope  that  they  knew  we  had  better 
attire  somewhere  in  the  world.  I  am  confident,  however, 
that  our  kind   entertainers   never  once   thought   of  our 

(185) 


1  86  a    B  i  ki>  s-i;  v  v.    v  1 1:  u  . 

apparel,  however  brusque  it  was.  Many  a  Laugh,  1  hope. 
our  tlritut  on  .Mi.  Zion  will  aiSford  me,  in  coming  years! 
1  had  .in  interesting  conversation  with  Mrs".  1>..  whose 
iH'\\  a  doctor  of  medicine,  I  have  often  seen  in 
Philadelphia,  I  .  S.  Mrs.  B.  informs  me  he  now  practises 
at  Beirut. 

After  conversing  most  pleasantly  for  awhile — during 
which  while,  however,  poor  Montag  could  not  say  a  word 
on  account  of  ignorance  of  English — we  all  adjourned  at 
the  Dr.'s  request  to  the  terrace  of  the  house,  in  order  to 
look  around.  Dr.  15.  explained  very  fluently  the  various 
ideas  he  held  concerning  the  situation  of  several  localities 
of  religious  importance  and  dispute;  he  put  us  in  posses- 
sion of  facts  in  regard  to  sites.  &c,  &c,  of  which  1  have 
Longed,  even  since  childhood,  to  think.  The  Dr.  informed 
us  that  the  valley  before  us  once  echoed  to  the  footfalls 
of  King  David's  warlike  hosts,  and  also  to  the  frenzied 
cry  of  the  rude  Romans  of  Titus's  army — that  the  very 
house  beneath  US  stood  on  Mt.  Zion.  and  under  it  was  to 
this  day  an  aquedud  of  Solomon's  antique  time.  To  our 
left  he  pointed  out  the  magnificent  Mosque  of  Omar,  said 
to  possess  a  dome  of  the  most  perfect  spring  in  the  world. 
This  reminded  me  forcibly  (though  considerably  smaller. 
I  should  think)  of  the  Lordly  dome  of  St.  Peter's  iii  Koine — 
tic-  towering  monument  of  the  almost  divine  skill  of 
Michael  Angelo.  We  gazed  with  interest  at  the  open 
enclosure    (by   which    I    mean    free   from   trees   and    much 

tended)  of  the  ancient  Temple  or  present  IlaramArea, 

wherein  should  :i  "Christian  dog"  by  mistake  or  otherwise 

:.  oil'  iroe.s    |,i.   head!      Dr.    B.    related    to   us   several 


AN     ADVENTURE.  187 


anecdotes  of  fruitless  attempts  on  his  part  to  enter  the 
enclosure.  He  wished  to  explore  the  whole  establishment, 
in  search  of  objects  of  interest  and  ancient  antiquities. 
It  had  long  been  his  wish  to  do  this ;  and  he  had  offered 
bribe  after  bribe  to  the  janissaries  to  allow  him  to  enter, 
and  on  the  condition  that  he  would  run  all  risks  when 
once  within  the  enclosure.  Several  different  janissaries 
had  consented  to  this  plan,  but  directly  the  Doctor 
wished  to  put  his  design  into  execution,  the  watchful 
and  remorseful  guardians  of  the  Pacha's  holy  things 
would  refuse  to  perform  their  part  of  the  contract,  and 
the  Doctor  was  disappointed  time  and  again.     Finally,  it 

seems   (this  was  told  me  by  Miss ,  the  young  lady 

staying  at  Dr.  B.'s)  Dr.  Barclay  offered  one  of  the  janis- 
saries a  horse,  provided  he  would  allow  him,  disguised 
and  arrayed  to  suit  himself,  to  enter  the  enclosure.  The 
offer  was  too  tempting  to  be  refused,  and  this  time  the  jan- 
issary was  as  good  as  his  word.  The  Doctor  was  admit- 
ted ;  but,  not  understanding  the  locality  sufficiently  well, 
he  was  soon  detected ;  his  fleetness  of  limb  alone  saved 
his  life  on  that  occasion — a  "  trying"  one  truly !  He 
afterwards,  however,  was  sufficiently  fortunate  to  obtain 
permission  from  the  pacha  to  visit  the  Haram,  and  he 
then  had  the  satisfaction  to  visit  thoroughly  all  places 
of  interest  within  the  enclosure.  Miss  Barclay  (the 
daughter  of  Dr.  B.  and  the  wife  now  of  Mr.  Johnson, 
American  Consul  at  Beirut),  whose  recently  issued  work 
I  was  fortunate  enough  to  see  a  few  days  ago — or 
rather  yesternhjht — gives  an  account  of  a  visit  to  the 
Holy  of  Holies,   which  she  performed  at  great  personal 


188  MISS    BARCLAY. 


risk,  and  which  could  «> n  1  \  have  been  performed  b\  one 
possessing  the  fullest  developed  powers  of  determination. 
It  Beems  the  young  1;m1\  after  various  bribes,  succeeded 
in  winning  over  to  her  purposes  several  women  of  the 
Hareem,  who  promised  to  give  her  lessons,  necessary  to  a 
righl  conduct  when  once  within  the  enclosure.  She  took 
regular  exercises  in  a  dress  as  worn  by  the  women  of  the 
Hareem,  and  finally  expressed  her  willingness  to  under- 
take the  arduous  task.  Unfortunately  she  had  not  prac- 
tised sufficiently  the  art  of  walking  in  Eastern  sandals, 
and  that  deficiency  gave  her  great  annoyance.  She 
entered  the  enclosure  with  several  of  the  women,  being 
pletely  disguised  as  one  of  them.  She  had  nearly 
reached  a  sentinel  who  stood  with  his  naked  gleaming 
scimitar — the  custodian  of  the  place — by  whom  it  was 
necessary  lor  them  to  pass.  Suddenly  Miss  B.'s  shoe, 
which  -he  had  been  endeavoring  for  some  time  to  keep 
on.  caught  against  an  impediment  and  fell  from  her  foot. 
Sh«-  was  bo  confused  at  this,  that  involuntarily  she  threw 
up  her  long  veil  which  covered  her  features.  In  another 
instant  she  would  have  been  discovered,  but  the  Turkish 
Bentinel,  true  to  his  orders  and  the  custom,  turned  away 
immediately,  and  did  not  look  on  her  face.  It  is  a  severe 
penalty  for  them  to  look  on  the  face  of  a  woman.  She 
then  gathered  renewed  confidence — for  she  knew  from 
this  circumstance  that  -he  was  not  suspected — and  she 
ssed  safely  on.  To  this  is  due  the  magnificenl  chromo- 
ph  view  of  a  scene  under  the  proud  dome  of  the 
Mosque  of  Omar,  which  appeared  in  Dr.  Barclay's  justly 
celebrated  work.  "The  City  of  the  Great  King."     This 


MOUNT    OF    OLIVES.  189 


was  a  hazardous  adventure  when  we  remember  that 
the  penalty,  if  discovered,  was  death,  or  become  a  member 
of  the  hareem.  With  our  sex  there  is  no  alternative ;  the 
bowstring  is  our  immediate  sentence  and  doom.  So  none 
of  our  party  were  sufficiently  emulous  of  fame  to  try 
the  experiment  of  standing  beneath  the  "Dome  of  the 
Rock." 

But  I  have  been  guilty  of  a  lengthy  digression,  and 
must  now  return  to  the  roof  of  Dr.  Barclay's  house,  on 
Mt.  Zion.  From  our  position  we  could  plainly  see  the 
Mosque  el-Aksa — a  long  barn-like  looking  building,  with 
a  flat  top  and  a  small  dome.  It  reminded  me  forcibly  of 
a  country  railway  station  in  America  —  the  dome,  on 
el-Aksa,  representing  the  cupola  or  bell-house,  on  the 
station-house.  This  mosque  does  not  compare  in  grandeur 
with  that  of  Omar.  The  beautiful  slope  of  Mount 
of  Olives  lay  before  us,  its  green  sides  arranged  in 
terraces  which  stretch  from  top  to  bottom.  On  the 
summit  of  the  sacred  mountain  is  situated  a  church, 
called  that  of  the  Ascension ;  because,  by  some,  the  spot 
is  thought  to  be  identical  with  that  of  the  Saviour's 
ascension.  We  could  plainly  see  the  further  wall  of  the 
Garden  of  Gethsemane,  in  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat — 
and  the  thousands  of  Jewish  tombstones  scattered  beneath 
the  olive  trees — and  spotting  everywhere  the  sides  of  the 
sacred  mount.  Jews  of  every  clime,  country,  and  genera- 
tion, all  struggle  thither,  that  their  bones  may  rest  in 
the  land  of  Abraham  and  Israel ;  and  the  love  they 
possess,  even  now,  for  poor  fallen,  dilapidated  Jerusalem, 
is   strikingly   exhibited    in   this   last   act   of  their  lives,. 


I'm  i  in  r    .1 1  u  s. 


which  place-  their  bones  under  the  turf  of  Mt.  Olivet, 
to  bleachen   beneath    the   shadow  of  the  Temple  wall. 
It  is  strange  what  an  unanimity  of  feature  betrays  these 
wandering  ami  widely-scattered  people,  which  were  once 
the  largesl   flock  that   roamed  the  plains  of  Palestine.      In 
Northern  Syria  alone,  we  find  examples  of  a  race  bearing 
the  mini-   of  dews,  who  are  very  sliuhth  Jewish,  accord- 
ing to  our  standard,  in  features,  in  manners,  or  customs. 
They   are   a    tar   nobler    set    than    those    dews   who    Hood 
Jerusalem,  and  who  stock  every  port  in  the  Levant,  and 
whose  face   is  the    guarantee  for  acts  of  contumely  and 
contempt  towards  the  unfortunate  owners  of  the  Israelitish 
features.     This  class,  however,  affords  the  only  example 
of  diversity  of  features  and  habits.     Our  Jews  in  America 
— of  course   much   more  refund,  and  far  more  deserving, 
because,  in  many  of  our  cities,  they  form   the   most,  and 
sometimes  tic  only,  creditable  portion  of  our  population, 
— show  the  same  similarity  of  features — the  short  curly, 
glossy  dark  hair;   the  clear,  beautiful  skin  ;   the  almond- 
Bhaped,   Liquid  eye;   the  large  sensual   mouth;   the  still 
Larger  and  thoughtfully  ponderous  nose — all  are  the  same 
;i-   with   the   richly-attired,   turbaned,   and   red-sandalled 
merchant  who  loiters  through  the  narrow  streets  of  Jeru- 
salem, and  with  the  miserable  leper-mendicant  who  begs 
alms  of  you,  at  the   Zion   nate.      And  they  all  show  this 
reverential    feeling    toward   their   long  and  forever  lost 
city — which   shone   with    such    splendor  in  the  days  of 
Solomon,  and  towered   so  grandly  when  the  humble  One 
of  Nazareth  Buffered  crucifixion  on  neighboring  Golgotha. 
Tie-  Hill  of  I'M!  Counsel  (or  Advice)  lay  to  our  right, 


ACELDAMA.  191 


and  over  against  us.  It  was  here  "  they  took  counsel  to 
kill  Jesus."  Right  above  is  the  Hill  of  Slander  (or 
Reproach)  because  Solomon  in  his  old  age,  carried  away 
with  lustful  passions,  and  forgetting  the  God  who  gave 
him  his  riches,  wisdom,  and  power,  here  erected  a 
gorgeous  temple  to  his  courtesans.  It  is  known  to 
this  day  as  the  Hill  of  Slander,  and  furnishes  a  good 
example  of  how  a  bad  name  clings  to  one,  especially 
when  it  is  deserved.  In  the  same  locality,  is  Aceldama — 
the  "  Field  of  Blood"— the  small  patch  of  land,  bought 
with  the  traitor  Judas'  ill-got  money.  It  is  a  barren- 
looking  rocky  spot — one  well  befitting  in  looks  the 
dastardly  act  by  which  the  bloody  tract  was  purchased. 
On  the  site  of  Aceldama,  stands  now  a  long  low  building 
which  is,  and  has  been  used  as  a  charnel-house.  Farther 
to  the  right,  below  the  "  gardens  in  the  King's  Vale,"  in 
the  downward  torrent-bed  of  the  brook  Kidron,  situated 
high  against  the  overhanging  cliffs,  is  the  Village  of 
Silwan — called  so  from  its  proximity  to  the  Pool  of  Sacred 
Memory.  We  could  only  see  the  top  of  some  of  the 
straggling  mud  huts  of  the  village,  as  the  rest  was 
concealed  behind  the  swelling  brow  of  Zion. 

After  feasting  our  eyes  with  the  varied  scenery  of 
sacred  spots  from  the  house-top,  we  descended  and  partook 
of  some  refreshments  in  the  shape  of  nice  pound-cake, 
and  what  was  better  still,  we  were  given  to  "  wash  down" 
the  delicious  cake,  nothing  more  nor  less  than  wine  from. 
Hebron — the  juice,  pure  and  unadulterated  from  the  wild 
vineyards  of  Mt.   Hebron !     Just  to  think  of  that !     It 


L92  PL  \»'K    OF    w    \  i  l   I  \  i... 


scarcely  Beems  possible  that  such  a  l«>t  should  be  mine — 
hut  bo  it  is,  and  I  am  thankful. 

A.s  Dr.  Barclay  suggested,  we  descended,  and,  with  him 
as  our  guide,  we  wound  through  several   narrow  alleys, 
and  took  our  way  to  that  portion  of  the  ancient  Temple- 
wall,  where  the  .lews  meet  on  every  Friday,  to  weep  over 
the  misfortunes  of  their  fallen  race,  and  lave  the  large 
stones   iu    penitential    tears.      It    is    called    from    this 
observance  the  "  Place  of  Wailing."     We  enter  the  sad 
Bpot  by  a  low  gate,  and  stand  in  a  small  enclosed  space, 
quadrangular  or  rectangular  in  shape,  which  is  roughly 
paved)     Modem  houses  stand  on  one  side,  a  low  wall  on 
the  other,  and  the  Temple  wall  on  the  remaining  sides. 
We  saw  several  stones  of  magnificent  proportions,  having 
a  singular  flattened  or  bevelled  edge,  indicative  of  Jewish 
workmanship  and  of  great  antiquity.     There  are  many 
large  clefts  and  fissures  in  the  rocks,  into  which  the  poor 
Jews   protrude    their   heads,  as    far   as  they  can   get    them 
when  they   wail;   and  the  rude  rock  in  many  place-    is 
worn    smooth    \>y    reverential    tears    and    kisses.      I    was 
'aged  in  getting  a  piece  of  the  ancient  stone  from  the 
wall,  as  a   souvenir  of  the  place,  and   not   with   any  idea 
of  defacing  the   masonry   at    all — when   a  Jew,  of  whom 
there  were  three  or  four  present,  very  violent  1\  reproved 
me,  as    I  judged    from    his   manner.     He  seemed  as  if 
meditating    personal    violence,   despite    the   presence   of 
our  party.     I   desisted  immediately,  and  gave  a  signifi- 
cant glance  toward  my  pistol  which  hung  in  my  belt. 
That    was   sufficient — he   left    me,    poor   fellow!    and    I 
procured   the   relic.      By   those   who   have   witnessed   the 


I   !   ! 


r-f-v 


feM 


^';   II 


i  As  && 


PLACE    OF     WAILING.  193 


scene — which  can  be  clone  every  Friday — the  wailing  day 
and  its  sights,  are  represented  as  being  affecting  in  the 
extreme.  Young  and  old,  male  and  female,  rich  and 
poor,  all  cluster  here  in  swarms,  and  send  forth  in 
prolonged  and  mournful  chorusses  their  piteous  wailings 
over  their  lost  and  now  defiled  sanctuary.  As  we  stood 
on  the  spot,  and  heard  Dr.  Barclay  so  vividly  describe 
the  scene,  how  vividly  did  all  the  glowing  recollections 
of  Solomon's  gorgeous  Temple  flash  in  flying  battalions 
over  my  mind  !  How  sunken  now  and  how  changed  the 
scene  !  The  turbaned  Muslem  treads  through  the 
sacred  cloisters  and  archways  which  once  echoed  to  the 
footstep  of  the  wisest  king  of  the  East — and  the  lofty 
towering  portico  and  the  brilliant  golden  fane,  are  now 
hid  beneath  the  debris  of  ages,  and  buried  in  fragmentary 
ruins  beneath  the  wreck  of  time.  Truly,  indeed,  "  Oh  ! 
God,  the  heathen  are  come  into  thine  inheritance ;  thy 
holy  temple  have  they  defiled ;  they  have  laid  Jerusalem 
on  heaps.  The  dead  bodies  of  thy  servants  have  they 
given  to  be  meat  unto  the  fowls  of  the  heaven,  the  flesh 
of  thy  saints  unto  the  beasts  of  the  earth.  Their  blood 
have  they  shed  like  water  round  about  Jerusalem ;  and 
there  was  none  to  bury  them.  We  are  become  a  reproach 
to  our  neighbors,  a  scorn  and  derision  to  them  that  are 
around  about  us."    (Ps.  lxxix.  1-4.) 

Dr.  Barclay  wished  to  show  us  a  gate,  or  the  remnants 
of  one,  which  he  discovered  sometime  since ;  but  we  could 
not  climb  over  the  wall  to  get  at  it,  and  the  proper  open- 
ing was  closed.  The  Doctor  says  the  gate  is  a  magnificent 
relic  of  by-gone  ages ;  he  considers  it  one  of  the  ancient 
13 


I'.'l  mi:    BAZAARS. 

splendid  Temple  gateways.  1  made  a  rude  sketch  of 
the  "  Place  of  Wailing,"  l»ut  bave  since  found  an  admira- 
ble photographic  view  of  it,  which  I  have  appropriated. 
It  is  accurate  to  the  utmost  minutiaa. 

From  this  place,  so  sad  in  its  interest,  we  took  our  way 
toward  tlic  Bazaars,  expecting  of  course  a  fare  sight  of 
splendor  and  beaut)  spread  out  for  our  curiosity,  our  latter 
and  disappointed  expectancy  notwithstanding.  We  found 
most  of  the  Bazaars  buddled  together  all  in  <t  heap,  so  to 
term  it.  in  one  locality.  Through  these  we  wind  and 
-'.  aboul  by  a  narrow  pathway  of  stone  leading  the 
entire  length  of  them.  Such  a  disagreeable,  pent-up 
odor — odor  of  had  tv/mbac  from  gurgling  narghileiis,  I 
never  before  experienced.  The  owner  of  the  Bazaar  pre- 
sents quite  a  different  appearance  from  the  well-dressed, 
smart,  polite  clerk  who  stands  at  your  service  in  Pari- 
sian boutiques.  I  was  struck  with  one  remarkable  trait 
about  the  vender — his  complete  apathy — his  entire  now- 
chalanct — his  "  I-don't-care-whether-you-buy-or-not"  look. 
This  was  apparent  at  first;  hut  when  the  Turkish  dealer 
became  warmed  up  with  the  subject  of  trade,  and  remem- 
bered, too,  he  had  ••Hadjis"  to  fleece,  this  dull  conduct 
rapidly  disappeared;  and  he  rivalled  in  euteness  and  well- 
conceived  and  In  Ui  /'-executed  cunning  some  ofow  keenest 
Yankees.  We  lingered  long,  looking  at  the  many  gew- 
-  ainl  enticing  articles  which  as  souvenirs  the  store- 
men  artfully  placed  before  us.  We,  the  American  element, 
could  not  resist  the  temptation,  and,  much  to  Esslinger's 
disgust,  we  purchased  several  trifles  to  carry  to  our  far-off 
friends  as  remembrances  of  this  old,  holy  city.     Some  of 


THE     BAZAARS.  195 


the  cornelian  stones  we  find  here  in  the  shops  are  indeed 
most  beautiful,   and  the  skill  with  which  they  are   cut 
is    surprising — for   I    am    told   it  is   Turkish    or  Arabic 
workmanship.     As  the  articles  in  question  were  cheap, 
we,  with  the  exception  of  our  Swiss  friend,  who  wanted 
none  of  the  "  trash,"  purchased  freely.     To-night  we  have 
received  a  hint  that  the  stones  are  originally  from  the  Red 
Sea,  and  that  the  workmanship  is  French!    In  other  words, 
the  stones  have  journeyed  to  France,  and  back  to  Jerusa- 
lem, and  found  purchasers  in  Yankees !     Be  that  as  it 
may,  I  am  quite  certain  of  this,  the  stones  were  bought  by 
us  in  a  Jerusalem  bazaar.     Among  other  things,  we  saw 
some  very  rich  and  handsome  shawls  and  scarfs,  two  or 
three  superb-looking    native  watches  with    tortoise-shell 
cases,  and    a  whole  cargo  of   Eastern  watches,  Oriental 
Arabic  dial-plate,  made — where  ?     Down  East  in  Yankee 
land!     Yes,   indeed;    Brother  Jonathan    makes    Arabic 
watches,  and  sells  them  in  large  quantities — of  course  at 
good  prices  and  profits.     We  saw  also  some  very  hand- 
some  and  truly  elegant  sabres;    and  there   were   many 
other  things  to  please  the  curious ;  but  Esslinger  became 
so  impatient  to  be  a  "  ganging,"  that,  to  please  him,  we 
left  the  Bazaars.     I  was  glad  myself  when  we  passed  into 
the   fresher   atmosphere,   and    heard   the    last  narghileh 
gurgle  on  my  ear ;  for  a  bazaar,  however  rich  and  gor- 
geous the  picture  the  word  may  paint  on  the  imagination, 
is  far  from   being  a  place  of  pleasure, -especially  when 
compared  to  the  Pincian  Hill,  the  Cremorne  Gardens,  or 
the  Pre  Catelan I 

On  our  way  to  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre,  whither 


KNIGHTS    OF    ST.     JOHN. 


we  dow  bent  our  steps,  we  passed  by  several  factories  of 
glass  armlets  and  anklets.  Such  a  quantity  of  this  article 
1  never  sam  in  all  my  life.  The  Dr.  informed  us  thai  the} 
were  put  on  a  child's  wrist  or  ankle  when  quite  young, 
ami  allowed  to  remain  there  throughout  life.  They  are 
considered  a  great  ornamenl  in  either  place — a  cheap  one 
certainty  beingonly  worth  two  piastres  (eight  cents).  On 
this  same  street,  and  jusl  before  we  reached  the  narrow 
entrance  before  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre^  we  saw  the 
fine  ruin  nf  the  once  magnificent  Hospital  of  the  Knights 
of  St.  John.  A  well-preserved  ruin  it  is.  A  large  and 
handsome  gothic  gateway  with  a  pointed  arch  is  the 
entrance  hy  which  access  is  obtained  to  the  enclosure. 
To  any  one  who  has  read  the  smallest  portion  concerning 
the  deeds  of  this  heroic  ecclesiastical  order — to  any  one 
who  has  heard  the  name  of  Godfrey  or  Richard  of  the  Lion 
Heart — singular  emotions  must  thrill  his  bosom  as  he 
-  on  this  sad  wreck  of  what  was  once  a  lordly  pile — 
on  this  spot  where  once  the  bold  knight's  voice,  as  clear 
as  hi-  battle-bugle,  rang  on  the  air.  I  would  like  to  tell 
herein  tin-  romantic  story  of  the  Templars,  and  would 
lovingly  linger  over  the  chivalrous  adventures  and  final 
disastrous  extinction  of  the  gallant  Knights  of  St.  John 
of  Jerusalem;  but  I  have  neither  time  nor  ability.  I 
.-hail  visit  again  the  ruin,  and  there,  amid  the  solitude 
and  sweetness  of  my  own  musings,  I  shall  glut  my  soul 
by  thinking  of  those  by-gone  deeds  of  that  gallant  Chris- 
tian band  whose  baldric  and  falchion  Hashed  in  the  battles 
of  the  C I 

I  have  heard  that  this  large  enclosure  has  been  recently 


CHURCH    OF    THE     HOLY     SEPULCHRE.  197 


given  to  the  present  Napoleon,  Emperor  of  the  French, 
by  the  Pacha,  as  a  bakhshish,  or,  to  make  it  more  appro- 
priate, as  a  poitr  boire.  How  true  this  is  I  know  not. 
Porter  mentions  the  fact  in  connection  with  the  ruin,  that 
a  tannery  exists  here  now,  and  that  the  odor  therefrom  is 
insufferable.  So  unbearable  is  it,  he  says,  that  often  anti- 
quarian and  tourist  are  deterred  by  it  from  becoming 
acquainted  with  the  many  curiosities  of  this  once  splendid 
hospital.     But  of  that  I  discovered  not  the  slightest  sign. 

Some  fifty  yards  further  on,  we  came  to  the  Church  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre.  It  is  said,  as  all  know,  by  some, 
that  on  this  site  once  reposed  in  death  the  body  of  the 
Saviour  of  mankind,  and  that  beneath  the  dome  of  the 
church  is  now  the  self-same  sarcophagus  which  once  con- 
tained the  sacred  corpse — also,  that  under  the  roof  of  the 
edifice  is  Golgotha.  Of  course,  about  all  this,  as  of  every- 
thing else,  there  is  much  dispute ;  and  it  is  very  plausibly 
asserted  that  Jesus  neither  rested  here  in  death,  nor  is 
Golgotha  here  situated.  Of  all  of  this  I  may  treat  more 
at  length  in  a  coming  day's  Journal,  when  I  am  more 
familiar  with  the  sacred  objects  which  are  here  grouped 
together,  and  with  the  facts  of  the  ca^se. 

The  worshippers  in  this  church,  Greek,  Latin,  Arme- 
nian, &c,  &c,  say  that  all  shall  bow  the  knee,  when  enter- 
ing the  court  of  the  church.  So  ive  came  in  the  category, 
and  had  to  do  as  others  do.  Meinherr,  at  this  point,  came 
near  injuring  himself  seriously ;  in  going  through  the  low 
stone  entrance,  he  raised  his  head  too  soon,  thinking  he 
was  free  from  the  gateway;  the  result  was,  his  cranium 
came  in  violent  contact  with   the  stones  ;  and,  as  a  final 


I     -  rill  RCH    OF    T  n  l:    HOLT    S  EPI   LCH  R  E. 


res  lit,   Meinherr  Buffered  from  temporary  concussion  of 
the  brain. 

A-wc  Btood  direct^  in  front  of  it,  the  church  presented 
a  fine  appearance;  its  noble  portal  and  tall  swelling  dome 
showed  well  under  the  noonday  sun.  I  will  defer  any- 
thing like  a  description,  because  we  saw  nothing  to 
describe — the  church  being  closed,  and  would  be  opened 
only  under  the  influence  of  a  heavy  bakhshish;  this  we 
concluded  nut  to  give,  knowing  that  to-morrow  morning 
the  portal  BwingS  free  to  all  who  may  enter.  It  is  with 
the  greatest  pleasure  that  1  look  forward  to  visiting  this 
sacred  place. 

Whether  or  not  the  church  deserves  its  sacred  title, 
the  simple  fact,  that  the  Christian  sects  of  the  East  all 
ie  in  bestowing  it.  is  sufficient  to  cause  us  to  approach 
the  place  with  the  Liveliest  feelings  of  awe  and  veneration. 
1  d<  ly  the  Bternest  Atheist,  the  most  unflinching  infidel. 
th«-  most  fanatical  Pantheist,  to  stand  before  the  noble 
fagadt  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  while 
he  recalls  that  long  dead  fact  which  gave  the  name  to 
the  edifice:,  to  shut  out  from  his  bosom  the  teachings  of 
his  conscience — that  there  was  a  Christ  who  died  for  our 
si,,. _that  there  is  a  < 'luist  who  reigns  for  ever — our 
future  Father,  our  eternal  Judge. 

We  then  bade  adieu  /»■<>  tern,  to  Dr.  Barclay,  and 
rtedon  our  way  home  to  the  Prussian  Hospice.  We 
were  sure  of  finding  our  way  quite  readily  hack  to  our 
quarters,  notwithstanding  Dr.  15.  assured  us  we  would 
find  //a  difficult  undertaking.  But  we  merely  laughed 
;lt  him.  thinking   he  was  joking  us— and   took  our  way 


AT     A     LOSS.  199 

rapidly    through    the    Bazaars.     At    the    other    end    we 
expected  to  turn  into  a  little  street,  and  in  a  few  moments 
stand  at  the  foot  of  the  outside  staircase  of  the  Prussian 
Hospice.     We  reached  the  end  of  the  Bazaar,  but  no  small 
street  teas  there  !     This  looked  badly.     Well,  we  wandered 
about  considerably,  each  man— Esslinger  in  particular- 
confident  of  his  knowledge  of  the  way,  and  giving  orders 
to  "follow  me!"  but  we  finally  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  we  were  all  wrong,  in  toto.     Whereupon  we  held  a 
council  of  war.     We  could  not  speak  Arabic  sufficiently 
well,  to  make  any  inquiry  of  those  passing ;  nor  could  the 
silly  Turks  and  Arabs  speak  French,  German,  or  English, 
but  we  had  slight  hopes  of  Italian,  as  some  of  the  Arabs 
understand  it.     So,  like  a  parcel  of  fools — or  sheep,  to  say 
the  least — we  were  compelled  to  stand  still,  and  watch  out 
in  every  direction  for  some  decent-looking  fellow,  who  when 
he  came  by,  Esslinger  would   rush  out,  and  accost  with  a 
half-mad  "  non  parlate  Italiana  ?"     A  vacant  stare,  a  very 
puzzled  look,  and  then  a  volley  of  gutturals  deep  enough 
to  choke  a  German  would  fall  on  poor  Esslinger,  from 
whom  a  smothered  "  tarn  !"  alone  told  us  the  ill-success 
of  his   venture.      After  shifting  head-quarters   a   dozen 
times,  and  wandering  about  an  hour  or  so,  like  a  discon- 
solate   guerilla  party,    we    at   last  fell  in   with    a   very 
Dutchy   looking    boy,    who    in    response    to    Esslinger's 
hazardous  "  Konnen  sie  Deutsch  ?"  admitted  that  he  could, 
by  opening  his  mouth  and  dropping  out  a  most  emphatic 
"ja!  mem   h  err-so  T     "Gut!"   ejaculated   Esslinger,   his 
eyes  brightening  up.     To  make  a  long  story  short,  the  boy 
very  kindly  led  us  about  twenty-five  yards,  and  turning 


200  a  i>\  i  n  r  r  R  K    IN    \  K  N  [C  E. 

sharply  to  the  right,  there  lay  our  staircase  looking  as 
natural  as  ever.  "Da!"  said  the  boy — and  refusing  to 
accept  a  trifle,  \\  alked  off,  followed  by  our  well  wishes.  We 
had  walked  wound  the  Hospice  a  dozen  times. 

This  adventure  reminds  me  of  one  similar,  in  which  it 
was  my  fortune  to  participate.  It  happened  in  Venice. 
M\  good  friend,  Frank  G.,  of  New  York  City,  and  myself, 
sallied  out,  the  afternoon  after  we  had  arrived  in  the  far- 
famed  water  city,  to  view  the  beauties  of  the  Molo  and 
the  Piazzetta  di  S.  Marco — to  gaze  on  the  Ducal  Palace, 
the  Grand  Canal,  and  the  Bridge  of  Sighs.  We  very 
r.adih  found  the  Piazzetta  di  S.  Marco,  because  the 
entire  promenade-tide  set  in  that  direction,  and  the  hour 
for  promenading  was  near.  After  sating  our  curiosity  to 
some   extent,  our   hunger  became  so  great,  that  it  was 

ssarj  to  sale  that,  as  well.  So  we  turned  about,  and. 
walking  leisurely  toward  our  hotel,  the  ViUoria,  con- 
tented ourselves  with  arraying,  in  our  imagination,  the 

1  things  our  Venetian  albergatore  would  spread  before 

at  the  quick-coming  table  d'hote.  On  we  walked,  and 
dived  and  twisted  into  and  about  the  narrow  streets — but 
the  hotel  did  not  come  in  sight  at  all!  The  houses 
around  us,  too.  frowned  down  upon  us,  and  looked  very 
_  •  and  unfamiliar,  as  the}-  Hung  their  distorted 
Bhapes  over  the  narrow  streets.  Well,  we  walked,  and 
walked,  and  walked,  and  c'Stait  '<>>//.  as  the  French  say. 
We  could   not   find    our  way   hack,   that  was  a  manifest 

tainty;  ami.  in  order  to  get  home  and  get  sometliiinj  t<> 
eat,  we  finally  entered  a  store  in  the  Piazzetta  di  S.  Marco 
— hack   to  which  we    had  wandered   a    dozen    times — and 


BLACK  BREAD  AND  GOAT  MEAT.       201 


hired  a  store  boy  for  a  zwanziger  or  so,  to  show  us  the 
way.  He  walked  about  two  minutes,  in  a  perfectly  straight 
direction,  it  seemed  to  us,  and  turned  into  the  court-yard 
of  the  Vittoria. 

But  to  return.  When  once  back  in  the  hospice,  we 
indulged  in  cold  water,  externally  and  internally,  and 
then  sat  down  to — I  must  say,  in  justice  to  my  veracity, 
in  my  humble  opinion — a  most  miserable  dinner.  Black 
bread  and  goat  meat  !  bah !  But  to  compensate  for 
the  edibles,  we  had  fine  wine  from  the  Judean  Hills, 
and  in  great  abundance.  This  liquor  resembles  very 
much  in  flavor,  and  is  equally  as  good  as,  the  Lachryma 
Chrisii  of  Rome — and  oh  !  it  is  so  much  cheaper !  only 
costing  us  about  twelve  or  fifteen  cents  per  bottle. 
Essliuger  speaks  grandiloquently  in  its  praises,  and 
asserts,  with  German  vehemence  and  Oriental  enthusiasm, 
that  he  intends  sending  a  ship  to  Jaffa,  and  have  it 
freighted  with  this  nice,  cool,  sparkling  wine.  S.  suggests 
that  he  be  made  skipper  of  said  craft — and  the  subject 
getting  dreggy,  drops. 

Having  finished  the  ordeal  of  wadding  down  goat 
meat  and  black  bread,  and  black  bread  and  goat  meat, 
as  the  case  happened  to  be,  we  procured  horses,  and, 
pursuant  to  our  engagement  with  Dr.  Barclay,  proceeded 
to  his  house  on  Mt.  Zion.  Essliuger  and  the  valiant 
v-  huzzar"  did  not  accompany  us ;  they  were  deterred  by 
prospects  of  a  rain.  The  doctor,  on  this  visit,  was  to 
take  us  around  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  outside,  in  order 
to  make  us  familiar,  to  a  certain  extent,  with  the  present 
;ii id  ancient  landmarks  of  the  city — an  all-necessary,  or, 
at    least,    very   important   preliminary   step,    prior   to   a 


202  I'll  r.    GOLDEN     G  \Tl-:. 


urn  amid  this  debris  and  wreck  of  antique  times. 
Unfortunately  for  our  plan-,  the  doctor  was  ailing;  be 
had  a  violeni  nervous  headache,  and  could  not  accompany 

us.     Bui  Miss ,  the  young  lad}  staying  with  Dr.  B., 

mosl  kindly  offered  her  services  as  our  guide;  we  heartily 
accepted,  and.  without  wasting  our  time,  off  we  started, 
all    in    -ood   spirits,    and.  what    was    better   still,  in    good 

,7,  s — quite  an  item  for  a  rough  cantor  here.  We 
dashed  rather  hastily,  and  dangerously,  I  thought,  along 
the  narrow,  rockv.  slippery,  descending  paths — or  streets, 
t.»  dignify  them  by  another  name.  We  at  last  left  the 
city,  and  by  St.  Stephen's  (late.  Near  this  gate,  they 
say,  St.  Stephen  suffered  martyrdom — hence  its  name. 
Aj9  we  were  passing  under  the  arch,  we  came  across  a 
dog  of  a  most  ferocious  aspect  and  disposition  —  so 
ferocious,  that  I  record  it.  He  was  so  uncivil  to  me.  that 
I  was  hall"  inclined  to  make  him  another  martyr,  without 

iking  irreverently,  by  sending  a  bullel  through  his 
lead. 

We  took  our  way  along  a  portion  of  the  ancient  Temple 
Wall — on  the  east,  overhanging  on  its  high  Muff  the  deep 
Valley  <.f  Jehoshaphat.  This  wall  is  now  in  a  line  with. 
and  is  included,  1  believe,  in  the  general  ramparts,  forming 
a  portion  of  the  fortification.  We  in  a  few  moments 
reached  the  Golden  Gate,  which  is  tin-  most  remarkable 
feature  ami  object  of  curiosity  in  this  section  of  the  wall, 

mse  -imply  there  is  nothing  more  to  see.  I  was  not 
much  -truck  with  this  Golden  Gate,  of  which  I  had  heard 

iuch,  and  read  more,  in  English,  German,  and  French 

le-books.     It  is  evidently  much  more  recenl   in  date 


THE     JUDGMENT-STONE. 


than  the  wall  into  which  it  seems  very  plainly  to  be  built. 
It  stands  out  several  feet  from  the  general  line  of  the  for- 
tification;  it  has  a  double  portal,  and  rather  handsome 
arches  over  each  door  (these  closed  by  cemented  stone). 
There  are  several  pillars  and  pilasters — some  of  the  Co- 
rinthian and  some  of  the  Ionic  order — both  vitiated. 
Porter  speaks  very  positively  of  the  comparative  modern 
date  of  the  Golden  Gate. 

Perhaps  some  sixty  yards  below  the  gate,  Miss 

pointed  out  to  us  a  rough  ragged  stone,  projecting  some 
distance  beyond  its  fellows.  On  this  stone  the  followers 
of  the  Prophet  affirm  that  Mahomet  will  sit  in  judgment 
over  the  world  at  the  last  day.  He  is  to  be  the  judge, 
and  that  piece  of  rude  granite — his  throne.  On  that 
terrible  day,  the  good  and  the  sinful — resurrected  of 
course — are  to  collect  on  the  opposite  slope  of  Mount 
Olivet,  and  one  by  one  they  shall  attempt  to  cross  over 
the  yawning  abyss  beneath  them  on  a  small  wire.  The 
sinners,  when  half  way,  shall  fall  into  this  valley— 
which  by  the  Arabs  is  called  Hinnom  (or  Ge-Henna  by  the 
Jews,  meaning  hell)—  and  there  meet  their  due  reward; 
but  the  righteous  and  pure  in  heart  shall  pass  safely  across, 
and  enter  the  Temple  or  Paradise.  If  I  might  venture  a 
comment,  I  dare  say  there  would  be  considerable  ivire- 
pulling  on  that  trying  day.  Doubtless  the  Mohammedans 
borrowed  this  idea  from  the  descendants  of  "Father 
Abraham,"  who,  as  I  have  mentioned  before,  flock  thither 
that  they  may  die  in  Jerusalem,  and  be  buried  beneath 
the  sod  of  Olivet ;  because  they  think  that  it  is  here  at 
the  awful  day  of  wrath  their  true  Messiah  will  judge  the 


-"I  \   \  i  i  iy    OF    JEHOSU  a  I'll  a  t. 


"quick  and  the  dead."  The  similarity  of  traditions  is 
manifest. 

This  wall  along  which  we  rode  is  commonly  known  as 
the  llaram  Wall,  as  it  forms  a  portion  (cast  side)  of 
the  llaram  enclosure.  How  beautiful  Olivel  looked  from 
our  position  as  we  stopped  a  moment  to  gaze  on  the  pictu- 

sque  mountain  before  us3  with  its  venerable  olives  scat- 
tered plenteously  on  its  green  brow — olives  which  per- 
haps east  a  shade  here  in  the  time  of  Christ  ; — on  ;i  close 
examination  into  the  cortical  structure  of  these  trees,  I 
have  no  doubt  but  that  some  of  them  were  cotemporary 
with  .lesns  of  Nazareth.  The  Church  of  the  Ascension 
showed  we-11  from  this  position,  and  I  anticipate  the  plea- 
sure of  going  again  to  that  same  spot,  and  enjoying  the 
glorious  panorama  in  early  morning,  which.  J  am  told,  is 
Iht  hour  to  enjoy  the  scene  here  and  then  presented  in 
all  its  richness  and  gorgeousness. 

We  next  descended  into  the  deep  vale  lying  between 
us  and  .Mount  <  Mivet.  This  is  called  the  Valley  of  Jehosh- 
aphat;  in  it  there  are  four  tombs  of  as  much,  if  not  of 
more,  importance  and  interest  than  any  others  in  or  near 
Jerusalem.  They  are  arranged  in  nearly  a  right  line,  and 
a  view  of  one  includes  all.  I  shall  repair  thither  at  an 
early  day  in  order  to  sketch  the  group. 

The  Tomb  of  Absalom,  or  more  properly  Pillar  of 
Absalom,  come-  first  in  order  as  we  proceed  down  the 
valley,  and  that.  I  shall  first  notice.  At  the  inferior  por- 
tion, the  torn!)  is  built  of  massive  solid  stones,  but  the  top, 
ashioned  like  an  irregular  cone,  is  of  masonry 
of  large  Bquare  stones.  I  believe,  and  appears  simply  to 


Absalom's   pillar.  205 


be  stuck  on  to  the  lower  portion  at  a  much  more  recent 
date.  The  diversity  of  the  styles  of  architecture,  and 
the  difference  of  material  used,  might  lead  us  to  infer  that 
the  lower  part  of  the  structure  was  original  work,  and 
that  the  cruciform  appendix  was  an  ornamental  (?) 
adjunct,  placed  there  by  a  later  generation.  This  was 
likewise  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Ferguson,  who  was  a  good 
judge  in  such  matters;  but  Dr.  Robinson  thinks  that  the 
architecture  warrants  the  statement  that  the  monument 
is  as  old  as  Herod's  day  at  least.  This  tomb  has  by  some 
been  said  to  be  that  of  Hezekiah,  by  others,  that  of 
King  Jehoshaphat.  It  cannot  be  the  latter,  if  my  memory 
serves  me  correctly ;  for  in  1  Kings  xxii.  50,  we  read — 
"  And  Jehoshaphat  slept  with  his  fathers,  and  was  buried 
with  his  fathers  in  the  City  of  David,  his  father •  and 
Jehoram,  his  son,  reigned  in  his  stead."  The  italics  are 
mine.  By  the  City  of  David,  here,  in  this  place,  is 
beyond  all  doubt  meant  Bethlehem.  Neither,  I  think,  can 
this  be  Absalom's  Pillar,  for  "  Absalom  in  his  lifetime  had 
taken  and  reared  up  for  himself  a  pillar  which  is  in  the 
King's  dale  ;  for  he  said,  I  have  no  son  to  keep  my  name 
in  remembrance ;  and  he  called  the  pillar  after  his  own 
name,  and  it  is  called  unto  this  day  Absalom's  place"  (2 
Sam.  xviii.  18).  Now  all  concur  in  placing  the  "  King's 
Dale"  far  below  this  spot,  and  in  the  neighborhood  of 
En-Rogel,  which  I  shall  notice  later;  and  according  to 
Scripture,  if  I  mistake  not,  Absalom  was  killed  in  the 
wood  of  Ephraim  by  Joab  on  the  clay  of  the  defeat  of  the 
Israelites,  and  "  they  took  Absalom,  and  cast  him  into  a 
great  pit  in  the  wood,  and  laid  a  very  great  heap  of  stones 


rOMB    OF     rill"     APOSTLE    JAMES. 

upon  him  :  and  all  Israel  fled  awa\  unto  his  kent"(same 
chapter,  1 7 1 1 1  verse).  Bui  main  Jews,  however,  think- 
ing this  the  veritable  Pillar  of  Absalom,  always  casl  a 

> 

stone  at  it.  and  utter  an  anathema  as  they  pass,  in  token 
of  their  disapproval  of  the  base  conduct  of  David  s  rebel- 
ling son.  The  -tones  at  present  are  piled  high  against 
the  side-  of  the  monument,  and  exist  also  in  large  quan- 
tities inside — so  much  so.  that  exploration  is  impossible. 
The  dimensions  of  the  pillar  1  suppose  to  he.  roughly, 
aboul  forty-five  feet  high,  and  about  twenty-five  feet 
front. 

'Idie  second  tomb  which  we  reached  was  that  of  the 
Apostle  .Tames.  This  is  quite  a  large  chamber  hewn  out 
of  the  rock  in  the  cliff,  and  consists  of  several  smaller 
chambers  for  the  repose  of  bodies.  It  is  supported  by 
two  columns,  ami  two  half-columns,  of  an  order  1  forgot 
to  notice  particularly.  "  In  this  tomb,  says  tradition,  the 
Apostle  dames  Bought  refuge  during  the  interval  which 
elapsed  between  the  crucifixion  and  resurrection  of  our 
Lord.  The  tradition  is  first  found  in  Gregory  of  Tours, 
win-re  it  is  said,  that  when  .lames  saw  the  Saviour  dead 
upon  the  cross,  he  vowed  he  would  neither  eat  nor  drink, 
until  he  should  see  him  rise  again.  On  the  third  day, 
i  ur  Lord  showed  himself  to  the  apostle,  saying.  'Arise 
and  eat,  for  I  have  now  risen  from  the  dead.'  The  story, 
however,  does  not  appear  to  have  been  connected  with 
this  Cave,  until  the  time  of  Maundeville,  in  the  fourteenth 
tury."  We  have  then  no  authority  other  than  this, 
for  believing  this  to  he  the  tomb  of  the  apostle.  If  other 
proof  exist.  I  have  not  been  able  to  lay  my  hand  on  it. 


f= 


TOMB    OF     ZECHARIAS.  207 


However,  I  was  told  that  this  was  the  tomb  of  St.  James. 
Every  guide  in  Jerusalem  and  every  writer  on  Jerusa- 
lem speaks  of  it  as  that  apostle's  tomb,  and  so  I  have 
recorded  it. 

The  third  tomb  was  that  of  Zecharias,  him  who  was 
stoned,  during  the  reign  of  King  Joash,  in  the  Temple 
court.  In  2  Chron.  xxiv.  20-21,  we  read:  "And  the 
Spirit  of  God  came  upon  Zechariah,  the  son  of  Jehoiada 
the  priest,  which  stood  above  the  people,  and  said  unto 
them,  Thus  saith  God,  Why  transgress  ye  the  command- 
ments of  the  Lord,  that  ye  cannot  prosper  ?  Because  ye 
have  forsaken  the  Lord,  he  hath  also  forsaken  you. 
And  they  conspired  against  him,  and  struck  him  with 
stones,  at  the  commandment  of  the  king,  in  the  court  of 
the  house  of  the  Lord."  This,  then,  is  the  tomb  of  the 
victim  of  Joash,  on  which  we  gazed.  But  God's  righteous 
vengeance  was  not  idle;  it  soon  afterwards,  ail-wisely, 
overtook  Joash,  and  that  monarch  was  slain.  I  know  of 
no  slab  which  marks  Jus  last  resting-spot.  The  tomb  in 
question  is  rather  of  simple  construction,  and  is  cut  from 
the  solid  rock.  It  has  a  couple  of  pillars  in  front,  and 
over  the  inferior  part  is  built  an  irregular  pyramid. 
Some  authorities  say  it  is  the  tomb  of  Isaiah  the  prophet 
— but  I  know  not  on  what  basis.  The  architecture  of 
the  tomb  makes  it  only  about  eighteen  hundred  years  old. 

There  is  yet  one  other  tomb  of  biblical  antiquity, 
which  gives  rise  to  several  disputes — to  reconcile  which, 
I  cannot,  of  course,  make  a  single  attempt.     For  I  must 

humbly  confess  I  did  not  see  any  of  it  at  all.     Miss , 

I  believe,  pointed  it  out,  or  what  remained  of  it.     I  refer 


208  rOM  B    ov    t  ii  1;    v  i  rg  I  N     M  A  R  v. 

to  the  Bo-called  tomb  of  King  Jehoshaphat,  to  which 
monarch  I  have  referred,  in  speaking  of  the  pillar  of 
\  isalom.  The  same  objection  raised  then,  bears  equalh 
well  here — that  there  is  but  one  tomb  of  Jehoshaphat, 
and  it  is  in  Bethlehem,  or  the  "Citj  of  David."  Portei 
says  it  "is  in  the  north-east  angle  of  the  excavated  arch 
around  the  pillar  of  A.bsalom,"  and  thai  "the  pediment 
alone  is  visible,  owing  to  accumulations  of  rubbish." 
After  contemplating,  for  several  moments,  these  objects 
of  Bacred  interest,  of  which  1  have  endeavored  to  write 
ething,  we  slowly  turned  our  steeds  away,  and  com- 
menced the  winding  ascent  of  the  Mount  of*  Olives.  We 
came  very  soon  to  a  very  ancient-looking,  gray-walled 
structure,  resting  in  a  sunken  court  to  our  left.  The 
facade  was  quite  pretty,  consisting  of  two  pointed  Gothic 
arches,  with  a  square  architrave  and  large  fine  porfoil. 
This  purports  to  be  the  tomb  and  the  chapel  of  the 
Virgiu  Mary,  the  mother  of  the  Saviour  of  mankind; 
whether  or  not  it  is.  I  cannot  say.  The  Virgin,  I  know, 
has  other  repute. 1  burying-places.  I  am  told  that  it  is 
also  said — Joachim  and  Anna,  the  parents  of  Mary,  and 
of  Joseph,  her  husband,  are  also  interred  here!  It  is  a 
romantic-looking  spot;  I  hope  to  visit  it,  in  a  day  or  two, 
and  enter  it — this  privilege  is  only  obtained  very  early 
in  the  mornings,  and  on  festival  days. 

We  lingered  here  only  a  short  time,  and  then  rode  on 
toward  a  small  enclosure  of  heavy  masonry.  Inside  the 
enclosure  we  could  Bee  a  small,  squalid,  miserable  habita- 
tion, several  rows  of  flowers,  and  a  half  dozen  or  so  mag- 
nificent   venerable   olive    trees.      This   was   the    famous 


GARDEN     OF    GETHSEMANE.  209 


Garden  of  Gethsemane !  How  my  heart  leaped  as  I 
drew  near  that  sacred  spot !  and  it  seemed  as  if  I  was 
threading  the  mystic  maze  of  a  dream  as  I  gazed  on  the 
few  feet  of  earth  before  me,  made  doubly  hallowed  by  the 
bloody  sweat  and  agony  of  the  Saviour.  It  was  here  He 
prayed  that  the  "  bitter  cup"  might  be  spared  Him,  and 
it  was  here  that  He  was  betrayed  by  a  disciple's  kiss !  It 
was  with  much  interest,  then,  that  we  drew  up  as  we 
reached  the  garden,  and  peered  inquisitively  over  the  wall, 
above  which  we  could  just  see.  We  had  not  time,  how- 
ever, to  enter  to-day.  We  intend  devoting  a  good  portion 
of  our  time  to  this  garden.  I  am  told  that  the  Greek 
Church,  out  of  jealousy  toward  the  Latins,  who  keep  the 
Garden  of  Gethsemane,  have  made  and  enclosed  a  garden 
of  their  own,  and  intend,  when  their  trees  have  grown 
sufficiently  large,  to  allow  visitors  to  enter  to  see  the 
sacred  places  there  also  !  Shame  on  such  a  people  !  a  people 
honoring,  as  they  profess  to  do,  the  name  of  Christian ! 
Shame ! 

We  contented  ourselves  with  one  last  parting  look,  and 

under  the  excellent  guidance  of  Miss ,  we  once  more 

commenced  our  way  up  the  white  zigzag  path  leading  to 
the  top  of  Mount  Olivet.  We  passed  on  very  swiftly 
toward  the  summit,  several  minor  accidents  happening  on 
the  way.  S.  bestrode  a  steed  of  rather  singular  make  ;.- 
added  to  this  he  had  an  improper  saddle-girth.  These 
together  made  this  consequence :  an  impossibility  for  his 
saddle  to  remain  in  situ.  Slip  off  it  would,  in  spite  of  all 
S.  could  do ;  who,  to  remedy  the  evil  was  mounting  and 
dismounting  all  the  time.  At  length,  however,  we 
14 


210  PL  LC  1'    OF     r  II  i:     A  SCE  X  SION. 


reached  the  top,  on  which  is  the  reputed  place  of  the 

A-  'MM. ui.  A  small  octagonal  church  is  hero  creeled,  ami 
pretends    to   stand   en    the   actual    site    from   which    Jesus 

took  his  flight  to  heaven.  Dr.  Barclaj  dors  not  coincide 
with  this  tradition,  although  ii  is  the  oldest  in  existence 
around  Jerusalem.     In  John  wo  road  that  Jesus  led  his 

disciples  a-  tar  a-  Bethany  and  there  look  leave  of  them. 
or  ••  was  carried  up  into  heaven."  This  spot — the  lop  of 
Olivet — is  very  near  to  Bethany,  it  is  true,  hut  is  u<>K  by 
any  means.  ,/.s  far  as  Bethany."  There  was  a,  church 
hero,  years  and  years  ago,  said  to  have  been  built  by 
Helena's  directions;  hut  it  has  long  since  passed  away. 
From  the  top  of  the  present  church,  or  from  the  summit 
of  a  tower  near  by,  a  most  complete  and  magnificent  view 
of  Jerusalem  is  to  be  had;  the  city,  lying  a  hundred  or 
so  feet  lower  in  situation,  is  comparatively  beneath  us. 
From  this  elevated  position,  we  can  see  far  away  over 
the  wilderness  of  Judea.  even  to  the  Dead  Sea,  which 
lies  motionless,  still,  and  dark,  far  away,  resembling  a 
glittering  mirror  of  quicksilver,  encased  in  a  rocky 
setting. 

Later  in  our  ride,  we  saw  the  place  of  Ascension 
>rding  to  Dr.  Barclay.  It  is  just  by  Bethany,  and 
••  up  a  high  mountain."  We  were  shown  several  caves 
in  tli^  Mount  of  Olives,  all  more  or  less  sacred — though 
in  what  consisted  their  sacredness,  I  have  idrgotten.  It 
is  useless,  I  imagine,  to  burden  one's  memory  with  all 
the  superlative  nonsense  ai  d  stuff  which  are  continually 
poured  into  our  ears.     I  shall  repair  to  the  summit  of 


BETHANY.  211 

Olivet  again,  and,  if  I  can,  write  out  the  magnificent  view 
to  be  obtained  there. 

We  next  passed  over  the  mountain  towards  Bethany, 
which  ancient  town  we  were  all  very  desirous  of  seeing. 
More  than  probable,  our  route  was  the  very  same  over 
which  our  Saviour  so  often  trod  eighteen  hundred  years 
ago ;  indeed  all  authentic  writers  on  Jerusalem  and  its 
environs,  notice  this  road  as  the  same  by  which  Christ 
generally  wound  his  way  toward  the  house  of  Lazarus. 
Only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  elapsed  before  we  reached  the 
village — for  we  went  at  a  rapid  rate,  too  rapid  to  enjoy 
the  scenery  so  sacred,  spread  out  around  us.  A  few 
dilapidated  straggling  huts  burst  upon  our  view,  and  I 
instinctively  knew  that  I  gazed  on  time-honored  Bethany, 
the  home  of  Lazarus,  of  Martha,  and  Mary  !  and  often,  in 
these  far  days  of  early  Christianity,  the  grateful  resting- 
place  of  Jesus  Christ.  Alas !  the  glory  of  Bethany  has 
departed — and  the  howls  of  the  hungry  dogs  of  the 
Becldaween  tell  mournfully  of  the  filth  and  wretchedness 
here  collected.  What  singular  emotions  crowded  my  mind 
as  I  drew  in  my  horse,  and  gazed  long  at  the  forty  or  fifty 
decayed  mud  structures,  which  nestle  over  the  resting- 
place  of  old  Bethany  !  This  then  was  the  spot  made  so 
sacred  in  the  trying  scenes  of  the  Drama  of  Redemption, 
by  the  presence  of  the  persecuted  Son  of  Man — this  the 
spot,  whence  He  marched  on  his  triumphant  way  to 
Jerusalem — this  the  spot,  where  He  raised  Lazarus  "  from 
the  dead,"  and  where  He  often  passed  sweet  moments  at 
the  close  of  day  ! 

Bethany  lies  over  the  other  side  of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  if 


212  BETHANY. 

1  may  so  speak — that  is, from  Jerusalem — and  itssqualid, 
huddling  hovels,  nestle  closely  together,  on  the  south- 
eastern Ledge  of  the  mountain.  It  is,  I  imagine,  about 
two  A.inerican  miles  from  Jerusalem,  a  "little  more  than 
fifteen  furlongs,"  as  St.  John  has  it.  The  Bcenery  along 
the  road  h\  which  we  went  to  Bethany  is  exceedingly 
\.  and  our  pace  was  far  too  rapid  to  enjoj  it.  11 
.  I  shall  take  a  stroll  thither  by  foot,  in  a  few 
days,  so  that  1  may  linger  a-  long  as  1  wish,  over  the 
sacred  way  along  which  our  Saviour  often  trod. 

The  Arabic  name  for  Bethany  is  eVAzir — which  means 
Lazarus.  i  think  the  word  Bethany,  as  we  retain  and 
use  it.  means  "  House  of  Dates."  1  imagine  it  received 
its  name  from  the  fruit  borne  on  palm  trees,  which,  1  am 
told,  existed  here  not  many  years  ago. 

Whether  or  not  Bethany  is  larger  now  than  it  was 
when  the  humble  Nazarene  made  it  a  frequent  resort, 
I  cannot  say.  It  must  have  then  possessed  more  life 
than  now.  for  a  more  wholly-deserted  and  desolate- 
looking  spot,  I  never  beheld.  Only  about  a  half-dozen 
of  animated  objects,  of  all  species,  refreshed  our  gaze 
there  to-day — and  those  objects  were  presented  in  the 
Bhape  of  a  miserable  motley  set  of  hall-clad  Arab  girls. 
hanging  about,  near  a  well.  Bethany  is  beautifully 
situated,  however,  and  overlooks  the  dark  deep  ravine, 
which  lead-  through  the  Moab  Mountains  to  the  deep 
depression  of  the  .Ionian  Valley.  A  view  in  this  direction 
takes  in  the  whole  "  Wilderness  of  Judea."  It  was  from 
B  many  that  Mary  and  Martha  went  to  meet  Jesus,  who 
came  from  "those  distant    blue   mountains  on  the  further 


BETHANY. 


21! 


side  of  that  deep  valley,"  to  beseech  Him  to  come  and 
raise   Lazarus,   their   deceased   brother.      It  was  in   this 
dilapidated  hamlet  they  chid  Him  for  tarrying  so  long, 
asserting — had  He  been  there,  "  our  brother  Lazarus  had 
not  died ;"  it  was  here  He  raised  that  same  Lazarus,  and 
exalted  himself  as  God  and  Benefactor;  it  was  here,  in 
the  house  of  Simon  the  Leper,  that  the  "  woman  having 
an  alabaster  box  of  very  precious  ointment,  came  and 
poured  it  on  His  head,  as  he  sat  at  meat."    And  the  house 
of   Simon  the  Leper  once  stood  in  Bethany,  where  we 
were  this  day,  for  I  am  told  its  site  is  pointed  out  even 
now,  to  the  very  curious.      We  did  not  see  it.     Here,  amid 
these  decaying    and   decayed  walls,  Jesus  so  frequently 
"  lodged,"  and,  if  I  should  speak  my  thinkings  on  a  sacred 
subject,  it  was  here  that  Jesus  passed  some  of  the  sweetest 
moments  of  His  life  on  earth.     It  was  hence  He  marched, 
as  I  have  said  before,  His  triumphal  train,  and  entered 
the  City  of  Jerusalem  ;  and  more  than  that,  there  scarcely 
can  exist  a  reasonable  doubt,  but  that  He  proceeded  over 
the   same   route   by  which   we  ivent  to  the  "House   of 
Dates."      I    find    in    Porter,    by    the    accomplished    Mr. 
Stanley,  a  magnificent  and  masterly  imaginative  descrip- 
tion of  the  wondrous  proceedings  of  that  wonderful  day. 
I  cannot  refrain  from  copying  the  extract  so  admirable — 
feeling  confident  that  all  who  may  chance  to  read  these 
rudely  written   sheets,   will   thank    me   sincerely  for  so 
doing.     The  scene  is  described  as  by  an  eye-witness. 

"  Two  vast  streams  of  people  met  that  day.  The  one 
poured  out  from  the  city  (John  xii.  12)  ;  and  as  they  came 
through  the  gardens  where  clusters  of  palm  trees  rose  on 


214  i;  BTH  A.NY. 

the  south-eastern  corner  of  Olivet,  thej  out  down  the  long 
branches,  as  was  their  wont  at  the   Feasl  of  Tabernacles, 
and  moved  upwards  toward  Bethan}  with  loud  Bhouts  of 
welcome.     From  Bethaivj  streamed  forth  the  crowds  who 
had  assembled  there  on  the  |>iv\  ious  night,  and  v\  ho  came 
testifying  to  the  great  event  at  the  sepulchre  of  Lazarus. 
In  going  toward  Jerusalem,  the  road  soon  loses  sight  oi 
bany.     It   is  now  a   rough,  but   still   broad  and  well- 
defined    mountain   track,  winding  over   loose  rocks    and 
les,  and    here  and   there  deeply  excavated;    a  Bteep 
declivity  below  on  the  left;  the  sloping  shoulder  of  Olivet 
above  it  on  the  right;  fig  trees  below  and  above,  growing 
out   of  the  rocky  soil.     Along  the   road  the  multitudes 
threw  down   the   branches   which   they  cut  as  they  went 
along,   or   spread    out    a    rude    matting   formed    of   palm- 
branches    they  had    already  cut    as    they  came   out.      The 
larger  portion — those   perhaps   who    escorted    him    from 
Bethany — unwrapped  their  loose  cloaks  from  their  shoul- 
ders, and  stretched  them  along  the  rough  path,  to  form  a 
momentary  carpet  a-  lb'  approached  (Matt.  xxi.  8).    The 
two  streams  met.      Half  of  the  vast  mass,  turning  round, 
preceded;  the  other  halt'  followed  (Mark  xi.  9).     Gradu- 
ally the  Ion,-'  procession  swept  round  the  little  valley  that 
furrows   the  hid,  and  over  the  ridge  on  its  western  side, 
where   first  began   the  descent  of  the  Mount  of  Olives 
toward  Jerusalem.     At  this  point  is  caught  the  first  view 
of  the  Bouth-eastern  (western)  corner  of  the  city.     The 
Temple   and  the  more  northern   portions  are  hid  by  the 
f  <)ii\et  oil  the  right;    what  is   seen  is  only  .Mount 
Zion,  now.  for  the  most  part,  a  rough  field,  crowned  with 


BETHANY. 


215 


the  Mosk  of  David,  and  the  angle  of  the  western  walls, 
but  then  covered  with  houses  to  its  base,  surmounted  by 
the  castle  of  Herod  on  the  supposed  site  of  the  palace  of 
David,  from  which  that  portion  of  Jerusalem,  emphatic- 
ally the  '  City  of  David,'  derived  its  name.     It  was  at  this 
precise  point,  'as  he  drew  near,   at  the  descent  of  the 
Mount  of  Olives'  (may  it  not  have  been  from  the  sight 
thus  opening  upon  them?)   that  the    shout  of  triumph 
burst  forth  from  the  multitude,  '  Hosanna  to  the   Son  of 
David !     Blessed  is  He  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord'  (Matt.  xxi.  9).     There  was  a  pause  as  the  shout 
rang  through  the  long  defile ;  and  as  the  Pharisees  who 
stood  by  in  the  crowd   complained,  He  pointed   to   the 
stones  which,  strewn  beneath   their  feet,   'would  imme- 
diately cry  out  if  those  were  to  hold  their  peace.'    Again 
the    procession    advanced.     The   road  descends   a  slight 
declivity,  and  the  glimpse  of  the  city  is  again  withdrawn 
behind  the  intervening  ridge  of  Olivet.     A  few  moments, 
and  the  path  mounts  again ;  it  climbs  a  rugged  ascent,  it 
reaches  a  ledge  of  smooth  rock,   and  in  an  instant  the 
whole   city  bursts  into  view.     As  now  the  dome  of  the 
Mosk-el-Aksa  rises  like  a  ghost  from  the  earth  before  the 
traveller  stands  on  the  ledge,  so  then  must  have  risen  the 
temple  tower ;  as  now  the  vast  enclosure  of  the  Mussul- 
man sanctuary,   so   then  must  have   spread  the  Temple 
courts ;  as  now  the  gray  town  on  its  broken  hills,  so  then 
the    magnificent    city   with    its   background — long    since 
vanished  away — of  gardens  and  suburbs  on  the  western 
plateau  behind.     Immediately  below  was  the  valley  of 
the  Kidron,  here  seen  in  its  greatest  depths  as  it  joins  the 


TOM  B    OF     LA  Z  a  R  l   S. 


valley  of  Hinnom,  and  thus  giving  lull  effect  to  the  greal 
iliarity  of  Jerusalem,  Been  only  on  its  eastern  side — 
situation  as  of  a  city — rising  out  of  a  deep  abyss.  It 
is  hardly  possible  to  doubt  that  this  rise  mid  turn  of  the 
road — this  rocky  ledge — was  the  exact  point  where  the 
multitude  paused  again,  and  'He,  when  lie  beheld  the 
citj .  wept  over  it." " 

Before  we  turned  our  hacks  on  this  ragged,  flat-topped 

village,  we  visited  the  reputed  tomb  of  Lazarus;  and  saw 

just  above  it  the-  remnants  of  a  very  ancient  house,  said 

to  he  the  one  in  which  the  brother  lived  with  his  Bisters 

Mary  and  Martha.      This  seemed  more  like  the  shattered 

and  tottering  wall  of  an  old  fort  or  rampart,  than  anything 

The  tomb  of  Lazarus  is  entered   by  a  low.  dark 

opening,  into  a  large    overhanging  cliff.      You    descend 

-  iveral  steps,  and  reach  a  small  chamber,  in  which,  tradi- 

I  -;i\  -.  Lazarus  once  lav  dead — from  which  state,  by  the 

puissant    arm   of  Him  ••in  whom  there  was   no  guile,"  he 

-  raised  again  to  life.     Whether  or  not  this  is  the  iden- 

i,  -jiot  of  the  miracle,  I  cannot  affirm;  that  it  was  here 

near  here,  I  have  every  reason  to  believe;  for  it  was 

in  Bethany — and  any  point  in  Bethany,  from  the  nature 

<>f  circumstances,  must  he  near  this  place.     I  am  inclined 

.    seriously  that  the  reputed   place  is  the  correct 

-pot. 

I)  iring  all  of  our  sight-seeing,  however,  we  were  much 

ommoded    by    a    whistling,    roaring,    voice-destroying 

wind.     I  never  before  witnessed  its  equal  in  violence;  it 

was  all  our  Bteeds  could  do.  sometimes,   in  skirting  the 
summit  of  some  of  the  high  hills,  to  keep  their  feet,  and 


EN-ROGEL.  217 


more  than  once,  I  thought  to  consult  safety  by  dismount- 
ing. But  as  regards  this — if  the  truth  must  be  told — I 
considered  our  necks  in  danger  from  the  moment  we 
sallied  out  at  St.  Stephen's  Gate,  until,  far  later  in  the 
night,  we,  a  most  forlorn  party,  sallied  into  the  Jaffa 
Gate.  From  Bethany,  we  started  home,  and  came 
around,  so  to  speak,  by  the  Valley  of  Hinnom  or  Ge- 
Henna — a  bad  place  too,  for  the  latter  word  means  hell! 
Our  party,  however,  had  a  Divine  in  it,  and  our  company 
was  good,  whatever  our  whereabouts.  We  visited  en-Rogel, 
or  Joab's  Well ;  the  Pool  of  Siloam,  and  the  Fountain  of 
the  Virgin  ;  of  these  localities  I  will  here  say  a  few  words, 
deferring  a  description  to  a  later  portion  of  my  Journal. 

En-Rogel,  or  the  Well  of  Joab,  or  of  Job,  as  some  have 
it,  is  at  the  junction  of  the  brook  Kidron  with  the  Valley 
of  Hinnom ;  it  is  said  to  be  ancient,  and,  if  genuine,  is 
indeed  "  as  old  as  the  hills."  It  formed  a  landmark  in 
the  boundary  lines  between  the  territory  of  Benjamin  and 
Judah.  We  read  in  Joshua,  15th  chapter,  7th  verse, 
"  And  the  border  went  up  toward  Debir  from  the  Valley 
of  Achor,  and  so  northward,  looking  toward  Gilgal,  that 
is  before  the  going  up  to  Adummim,  which  is  on  the  south 
side  of  the  river ;  and  the  border  passed  toward  the  waters 
of  Enshemesh ;  and  the  goings  out  thereof  were  at  En- 
Rogel."  The  well  seemed  to  be  quite  deep,  and  moss 
grew  profusely  on  the  gray  stones,  which  reached  even 
down  to  the  water.  The  whole  structure  is  of  rude 
masonry,  covered  over  with  a  very  modern  shed  of  wood. 
It  is  in  a  lovely  situation,  and,  in  spite  of  the  cold 
weather  which  has  of  late  visited  this  region,  the  grass 


218  POOL    OF    SILOAM. 


grew  green  and  flourishing  around.  I  am  told  thai  the 
well,  although  from  the  surface  of  the  ground  to  the  bot- 
tom I-  one  hundred  and  ten  feet,  yel  in  the  season  of 
rains,  the  wain-  swell  high  and  pour  even  over  the  rude 
rim  of  stones  encircling  the  mouth.  Whence  is  the  sourer 
o[  the  water  1  cannot  imagine,  nor  can  1  learn.  It  must 
have  its  rising,  however,  1  think,  from  some  of  the  large 
pools  in  the  same  valley.  The  Arabs  call  this  well  Bit 
F.ipih.  which  means  ••  Well  of  Job." 

A  shorl  distance  above  En-rogel  is  the  far-famed  Pool 
of  Siloam — the  one  to  which  our  Saviour  sent  tin-  blind 
man.  savin-.  "Go  wash  in  the  Pool  of  Siloam."  The 
Arabs  call  this  place,  if  I  mistake  not.  Silwan;  they  call 
the  adjacent  village  Silwan,  I  know.  It  was  once  con- 
tended that  this  pool  was  connected  with  the  Fountain  of 
the  Virgin,  which  is  higher  up  the  valley,  and  this  was  in 
fact  proved  by  Dr.  Robinson,  the  energetic  explore]-,  to 
whom  1  have  already  referred  several  times.  After  most 
arduous  labor,  ami  a  grand  display  of  indomitable  pe. 
verance,  the  doctor  actually  passed  the  entire  length  of 
the  conduit  from  the  Fountain  of  the  Virgin  to  the  Pool  of 
Siloam.  He  describes  the  passage  through  the  aqueduct 
at  some  [.laces  as  most  difficult,  inasmuch  a-  he  not  only 

compelled  to  go  on  "  all-fours,"  but  "  could  only  get  for- 
ward by  lying  at  full  length  ami  dragging  ourselves  along 
upon  our  elbows.'' 

Tic-  waters  of  Siloam   have,  since  years  "lang  syne," 
been    uoted    as    not    being   regular   in    their  flow,   and  of 

pse  the    phenomenon  was    fully  explained,   after  Dr. 

inson's  indefatigable  researches.     The  entire  distance 


POOL    OF     SILOAM.  219 


of  the  channel  between  the  two  pools  is  nearly  eighteen 
hundred  feet.  Josephus  is  the  best  authority  for  locating 
the  Pool  of  Siloam  ;  he  determines  it  to  be  just  where  we 
find  the  present  pool.  We  should  be  indeed  thankful  to 
the  Jewish  historian  for  so  definitely  marking  a  site  of 
such  celebrity  in  Bible  history,  and  around  which  cluster 
so  sweetly  the  memories  of  "the  waters  of  Siloah  that 
flow  softly"  (Isaiah  viii.  6). 

The  Pool  of  Siloam  "  is  a  rectangular  reservoir  53  feet 
long,  18  wide,  and  19  deep;  in  part  broken  away  at  the 
western  end ;  the  masonry  is  modern ;  but  along  the  sides 
are  six  shafts  of  limestone  columns  of  more  ancient  date, 
projecting  slightly  from  the  wall,  and  probably  originally 
intended  to  sustain  a  roof.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  pool 
is  an  arched  entrance  to  a  ruinous  staircase,  by  which  we 
descend  to  the  mouth  of  the  conduit  that  comes  from  the 
'  Fountain  of  the  Virgin.'  " 

Isaiah's  tree,  an  imaginary  sacred  curiosity,  is  said  to 
be  near  the  Pool  of  Siloam.  It  is  a  tree  so  called  from 
the  fact,  they  say{?)  that  the  prophet  Isaiah  was  here 
cruelly  sawn  asunder  by  the  harsh  command  of  Manas- 
seh.  We  did  not  see  the  tree,  however,  nor  did  we  at  the 
time  of  our  visit  hear  any  reference  made  to  it. 

There  is  yet  one  more  pool  which  we  included  in  our 
ride,  and  of  which  I  have  made  mention  more  than  once. 
I  refer  to  the  Fountain  of  the  Virgin.  In  this  fountain 
probably  the  interrupting  flow  was  first  discovered  by  Dr. 
Robinson.  He  gives  an  interesting  account  of  the  cir- 
cumstance. The  natives  give  this  solution  of  what  was 
once  a  problem  :  A  dragon  of  hideous  form  and  dreadful 


■--i'  POD  N  r  \  I  N     OF    Til  i:    V  [RGl  N. 

Appearance  keeps  vigil  mar  the  fountain.  When  he  is 
<>u  duly,  or  awake,  the  water  does  nol  remit  or  How; 
but  -i  soon  as  the  grim  custodian  yields  to  slumber,  the 
flow  commences,  and  continues  until  the  dragon  awakens. 
Some  think  tlic  fountain  to  be  identical  with  the  old 
Bethesda,  at  which  Christ  worked  a  charitable  deed 
Johnv.).  Some  think  it  Solomon's  reservoir,  described 
by  Josephus  as  "between  the  fountain  of  Siloam  and 
the  southern  side  of  the  Temple."  How  the  fountain 
received  its  name  1  do  not  know;   I  have  been  able,  how- 

p,  to  pick  up  two  tradition^  which  may  probably  afford 
substan  •<•  enough  wherewith  to  create  a  title.  One  is  thai 
the  fountain  possessed  the  singular  property  of  betraying 

Iterous  women;  it'  women  coming  to  this  pool  could 
Irink  freely  of  its  waters,  and  not  immediately  exhibit 
unpleasant  symptoms,  then  their  innocence  and  chastity 
were  proved  beyond  cavil.  It  seems  now  that  Mary,  the 
m  >ther  of  Jesus,  was  suspected  of  being  enceinte  out  of 
wedlock.     She  gladly  submitted  to  this  test,  and,  as  the 

litio  to     tat.',  die   passed  the  ordeal  without 

flinching,  and  without  the  appearance  of  an  unpleasant 
tell-tale  symptom.  The  other  tradition  simply  says  that 
the  Virgin  came  to  the  pool  to  wash  her  child's  clothes. 
In  either  case  we  see  the  aptitude  of  the  name.  The 
Arabs  have  a  jaw-breaking  name  for  this  pool,  which  I 

er  Learned  thoroughly,  and  which  I  have  by  this  time 
forgotten  /'//  toto ;  it  means,  however,  the  "Pool  of  the 
Mother  of  Stairs."  What  the  name  in  this  case  signifies 
I  cannot  tell. 

Saving,   in    turn,  inspected    each    of  these   places  of 


A     TRIAL    OF     SPEED. 


221 


interest,  and  learned  as  much  about  them  as  a  horseback 
preliminary  visit  would  allow,  we  turned  away.  We  had 
nothing  in  particular  now  to  see,  and  as  the  hour  of  sunset 
was  very  near,  we  raised  our  horses  to  a  swift  canter, 
and  away  we  dashed !  A  real  breakneck  scamper  was 
that !  And  at  this  point  of  our  day's  sightseeing,  com- 
menced filling  our  cup  of  troubles,  which,  before  we 
reached  home,  was  indeed  running  over.  But  these 
troubles  were  the  spice  to  our  adventures,  and  as  every- 
thing turned  out  well  enough,  why  we  could  laugh  at 
our    vexations,    afterwards!      But    I    am    anticipating. 

Away   we   dashed  — Miss  ,  S.,   and    myself,   ahead. 

Our  gallop  soon  quickened  to  a  run,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments it  became  an  exciting  trial  of  speed  between  our 
three  mettlesome  chargers.  As  for  Mr.  S— tt,  intent  on 
examining  holy  places,  he  lingered  behind,  without 
noticing  our  rapid  departure  and  the  direction  we  took. 
We,  of  course,  thought  he  was  in  our  wake.  But — we 
had  taken  the  wrong  road  !  This  information  was  kindly 
given  us  by  some  cut-throat  looking  Arabs,  lying  in  the 
shade  of  a  wild  locust  tree  in  the  valley.  We  were 
astounded,  for  we  had  imagined  that  we  were  fast  nearing 
the  Jaffa  Gate.  We  were  going  in  the  opposite  direction, 
and  were  clattering  on  toward  Bethlehem,  and  not  toward 
the  "City  of  the  Great  King."  It  was  at  this  time 
very  near  sunset,  when  the  gates  are  always  closed — 
the  Jaffa  Gate  being  kept  open  one  single  half-hour 
longer.  There  was  no  alternative,  and  no  time  was  at 
our  disposal  for  consideration.  We  wheeled  around, 
instantly,  and  came  dashing  back  at  the  same  breakneck, 


'___  \     RACE     FOR     JAFFA     G  \  TE. 

flying  speed  that  had  carried  us  thither.     On  our  return, 

n  the  midst  of  our  mad   rice  we  met  Mr.  S — tt.  looking 

very  uneasy  and  "skittish;*  for  he  Burely  thought  he  was 

and  he  knew,  by  reputation,  the  character  of  the  Arabs 

who  loafed  about  the  'pools  in  the   Kidron   Valley!      lie 

wheeled   into  our  flying    squadron,   and   the  din  of  his 

horse's  hoofs  added  to  the  clatter  that  made  the  valley 

again.      On    we     went  —  niv    noble    little    steed 

tnbled — 1   drew  him   up,   and.    with   a   few  words   of 

luragement,    he   was   soon    amid    the   others   again, 

striving,  it  seemed,  to  reach  the  flying  white  charger  of 

Miss .  who  heroically  led  the  van.    Alas !  poor  fellow, 

he  struggled  in  vain — the  white  was  superior  in  length 

of  limb.     I  imagined  that   Miss was  much  excited 

it  the  terrific  gait  at  which  we  were  speeding  along.  I 
determined  to  keep  close  as  possible  to  her — so  I  encou- 

ed  my  little  steed  on.  and  nobly  and  beautifully  did 
he    run.      1    passed    S.  and    Mr.    S — tt    easily,    and   was 

rapidly  nearing   Miss .  who  was  leading  directly  up 

the  rough,  rugged  brow  of  old  Zion.     dust  then,  to  make 

O      *  CO  ' 

a  had  matter  worse  Mr.  S — tt's  horse  "kicked  up,"  and 
•  S. — who  was  <•  tmpeting  with  our  reverend  friend 
for  turf-honors — a  severe  blow  on  his  ankle.  I  turned 
in  my  saddle  to  see  the  consequence  of  the  kick.  S.  had 
dismounted,  and  Mr.  S — tt.  also  on  foot,  was  assisting 
him  up  the  hill !     I  imagined  he  was  not   seriously  hurt, 

and  suddenly  thinking  of  Miss and  of  my  ungallant 

1  took  a  last   look  at  my  two  friends  struggling 
up  the   hill    afoot,  and   gave   free  rein   to   my  horse  once 

more.     When  1  reached  the  Bummitofthe  hill.  Miss 

had  disappeared,  and  then.'  was  not  a  single  soul  in  sight ! 


A     TERRIBLE     POSITION.  22) 


I  pushed  on,  and  still  no  appearance  of  our  fair  guide. 
I  determined,  under  the  circumstances,  to  await  the 
coming  of  my  friends.  But  it  seemed  that  I  had  to  wait 
for  ever !  I  rode,  anxious  and  uneasy,  back  to  the  road 
up  which,  as  I  thought,  I  last  saw  them  approaching — 
but  not  a  living  creature  greeted  my  gaze  ! 

I  slowly  began  to  realize  my  position — a  terrible  one, 
truly  !  Outside  of  the  walls  of  Jerusalem — after  sun- 
set— knew  not  ten  words  of  decent  Arabic,  and  just  then 
recollected  most  vividly  every  instance  of  Oriental  cruelty 
on  record,  and  particularly  the  recent  murder  of  Miss 
Crecy ! ! !  To  add  to  this  catalogue,  I  was  nearly  8000 
miles  from  home  and  relatives  and  very  dear  friends  in  far 
away  America !  No  one  can  imagine  the  forlorn  terror 
which  for  a  moment  held  possession  of  my  bosom.  To 
add  to  my  stock  of  troubles,  my  steed  broke  from  me — I 
was  on  foot,  holding  him  by  the  bridle — and  walked  very 
contentedly  off!  There  was  now  no  alternative  pre- 
sented— but  sleep  in  a  cave — and  perhaps  "  sleep  my  last 
sleep,"  or  try  and  catch  my  truant  steed,  and  ride  some- 
where or  everywhere.  After  a  little  strategy,  I  coaxed  the 
faithful  animal  up  to  me,  and  fixed  the  bridle,  saddle,  and 
riding  appurtenances  most  securely  with  my  handker- 
chief :  I  then  sprang  upon  his  back,  and  in  an  instant  was 
off  like  wind.    Just  as  I  was  turning  an  angle  of  the  city 

wall,  Miss suddenly  turned  the  same  corner  from  an 

opposite  direction,  at  a  pace  equal  to  my  own.  I  was  as 
glad  to  see  her  as  an  angel  dropped  from  heaven.  She 
was  an  angel  to  me  then  indeed,  for  she  succored  me  in 
my  distress.  The  noble  and  kind-hearted  young  lady  had 
ridden  on,  and  had  given  orders  to  the  keepers  that  the 


'_'_'  I  w  r     REACH     i  11  i     GA  I  B. 

gates  should  be  kept  open  tor  our  party.  Following  her 
directions,  1  pushed  on,  and,  much  to  m\  joy,  I  soon  stood 
once  more  within  the  shadow  of  the  Jaffa  Gate,  and  inside 
the  walls  iA'  Jerusalem!     In  half  an  hour  S.  and  Mr. 

S — u.  under  the  charge  of  Miss ,  came  hobbling  up, 

ami  our  party  was  once  more  united  at  the  Jaffa  Gate. 
I,  was  a  ride  for  life,  as  I  shall  always  contend,  and.  as  ;i 
participator.  I  shall  always  remember  the  adventure. 

Before  going  elsewhere,  we  went  by  the  Mediterranean 
Hotel,  where  Mr.  S — tt  called  on  Dr.  Gorham,  our  consu- 
lar representative,  to  whom  he  had  letters  of  introduction 
from  friends  in  Rome.  The  said  Mr.  Gorham  is  from 
Boston,  and  once  hold  a  like  position  in  Rome.    We  then, 

en  masse,  escorted   Miss homo,  whore  we  found  the 

doctor's  family  somewhat  uneasy  about  us,  on  account  of 

our  tardy  appearance.    We  sincerely  thanked  Miss for 

her  kindness  in  conducting  us  safely  once  more  into  the 
city;  and.  wishing  all  good-night,  we  left.  Hassan  was 
there  waiting  for  us.  and.  under  his  guidance,  we  stumbled 
through  the  dark  streets,  and  finally  reached  the  Prussian 
Hospice. 

After  tea  a  very  kind  and  affable  Mr.  J — b — sn  called 
on  us.  and  proffered  us  his  assistance  in  sight-seeing.     Ih 
has  dwelt  here  for  several  years,  and.  as  a  guide;,  is  au 
foil.  I  presume. 

Heirs  Montag  and  Esslinger  went  this  afternoon  to  the 
Mount  of  Olives,  also  to  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre. 
Meinherr,  the  "  Huzzar,"  is  speaking  now  of  the  Qrab- 
kirsch*  ;  and  Esslinger  is  so  disgusted  with  the  weather, 
that  he  advises  and  earnestly  urges  instant  "flight  into 
Pt." 


CHAPTER  X. 


Prussian  Hospice,  Jerusalem. 
Sunday,  6th  March,  1859. 


! 

HAVE  spent  this  day  in  the  City  of  the  Lord.  The 
Lord's  day  in  the  City  of  the  Lord!  And  who 
would  have  thought  it  ?  /  did  not  five  months 
ago — but  stranger  things  have  happened. 
The  last  thing  I  did  last  night,  before  going  to  sleep,  was 
to  make  an  engagement  with  Mr.  S — tt  to  accompany  with 
him  Mr.  J — b — sn,  who  had  kindly  offered  his  services,  to 
the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre,  in  order  to  witness  Oriental 
worship  in  all  its  essence  and  purity.  (?)  But — and  an 
unlucky  but — we  slept  so  late,  or  rather  we  slept  so  hard, 
that,  when  we  awoke,  the  hour  of  the  engagement  had 
passed.  But  the  rain  came  down  in  such  torrents,  that 
we  could  not  have  gone  any  way.  Nevertheless  I  was 
very  sorry,  for  I  wanted  to  see  the  sights  that  are  enacted, 
perhaps  blasphemously,  within  the  walls  of  the  sacred 
church.  "  Hope  deferred  maketh  the  heart  sick ;"  never- 
theless, I  live  in  hope — though  it  is  sadly  "  deferred" — 
until  next  Sunday. 

We  sat  down  to  a  tolerable  breakfast.  I  must  say, 
however,  that  my  meals  here  give  me  more  trouble  and 
vexation  than  anything  else.     Not  that  I  am  a  glutton — 

15  (225) 


226  CHURCH    OF     nii:    SEPULCHRE. 

l,N  Q0  means — but  1  am  in  bad  health,  and  need  nourish- 
ment, in  the  shape  of  rich  and  palatable  food  ;  but  it  will 
In-  a  long  time,  I  fear,  before  1  can  class  goat  meat  in  that 
category!  But,  (again) — we  bave  tolerable  coffee — bread 
that  will  do — good  wine — a  few  eggs  occasionally — and 
after  all,  1  guess  1  am  content. 

We  concluded,  while  sitting  at  the  breakfast  table,  to 
take  a  walk,  any  way,  to  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre; 
BO  we  sent  around  and  requested  Mr.  J — 1) — sn,  to 
accompanj  us  thither.  He  verj  good-naturedly  assented, 
and    soon    called   for   US.      Off  we    started.    Esslinger   and 

■  i  John  Montag  in  company  this  time,  and  after  a  walk 
of  ten  minutes  we  entered  the  church — I  with  the  most 
singular  emotions.  Would  that  1  could  describe  what  I 
simply  felt,  as  I  am  sure  that  it  would  constitute  the 
most  interesting  page  of  my  Journal.  It  is  impossible  to 
llel  now,  as  I  then  felt,  and  to  experience  the  same 
emotions  in  all  their  power,  which  then  swept  like  light- 
ning through  my  frame.  Suffice  it  to  say  then,  that  most 
singular  indeed,  were  the  actions  of  my  mind,  as  I  stood 
under  the  dome  of  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre,  and 
heard  the  sound  of  my  own  footfall,  echoing  away  amid 
the  sanctity  of  holy  places.  These  holy  places  of  course 
we  saw.  and  were  duly  told  by  Mr.  .1— b— sn,  every 
tradition  concerning  each  particular  object,  which  gratified 
our  curiosity.  We  saw  the  Sepulchre  itself,  and  I  stood 
under  the  myriad  blaze  of  perfumed  oil  burnt  in  golden 

scona and  most  reverentially,  I  knelt  down  and  kissed 

the  -tone,  reputed  to  be  the  one  in  which  the  Saviour  of 
Mankind    once    reposed    in    death.      I    defy    the    most 


CHURCH    OF    THE     SEPULCHRE.  227 


sneering  atheist  or  infidel,  to  enter  this  place  without  the 
holiest  emotions  intruding  themselves  on  his  mind.  It 
may  not  be  the  exact  spot  where  the  dead  Christ  once  lay, 
and  I  am  far  from  believing  it — yet  four-fifths  of  the 
Oriental  Christian  population  agree  in  placing  it  here; 
and,  what  weighs  more  in  my  estimation,  with  the  place 
is  for  ever  connected  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ — Immanuel 
— Him  of  Nazareth — The  Great  I  Am — Our  Lord — 
Saviour  and  Redeemer !  As  I  walked  into  the  small  and 
brilliantly  lighted  chamber,  in  which  is  the  Sarcophagus, 
I  experienced  feelings  which  I  cannot  write  down  on 
paper,  because  I  cannot  even  imagine  them  now — they 
were  so  unusual,  so  peculiar,  so  unearthly.  Never  shall 
I  forget  the  deep  religious  glow  which  overspread  Mein- 
herrs  face,  as  he  solemnly  knelt  on  the  cold  stone  floor, 
by  the  coffin,  and  lifting  his  eyes  aloft,  seemed  uttering  a 
heartfelt  prayer  to  the  One  Supreme. 

On  entering  this  place,  the  natives,  generally,  not  only 
uncover  the  head,  but  also  slip  off  the  boots  or  sandals — 
as  it  is  worse  than  pollution  to  stand  in  such  a  holy 
place,  in  the  same  shoes  in  which  you  have  walked  the 
streets.  We  were  allowed,  however,  to  go  in  with  our 
boots  on,  though  we  showed  a  perfect  willingness  to 
conform  to  the  custom  of  the  place.  Meinherr  had  gone 
so  far  as  to  take  off  one  of  his  boots,  before  we  could 
make  him  understand  that  it  was  not  necessary. 

I  was  much  surprised  at  the  devotion  and  almost  agony 
of  grief  which  every  pilgrim  who  came  in,  betrayed. 
Tears  flowed  from  their  eyes,  like  rain  from  heaven,  and 
bedewed    the    stones    on  which   we  stood.      Their  sobs, 


C  II  0  Kin    OF     1  II  i:    S  I  PI   l.t  II  i:  I  . 


wrung,  it  seemed,  from  souls  full  of  anguish,  echoed 
through  the  narrow  vaulted  chamber.  I  was  moved  bv 
their  emotions,  and  I  fancied  the}  gazed  on  my  trickling 
tears,  with  a  tender  and  more  subdued  expression. 

Porter  says: — ••  Here  I  have  often  lingered,  solemnized, 
almosl  awe-stricken,  Looking  at  pilgrim  after  pilgrim  in 
endless  succession,  crawling  in  on  bended  knees,  bowing 
lips  and  forehead  and  cheeks  to  the  cold  marble,  and 
bathing  it  with  tears,  and  sobbing  until  the  very  heart 
seemed  breaking — then  dragging  himself  away,  still  in 
the  attitude  of  devotion,  until  the  threshold  is  again 
crossed." 

And.  in  speaking  of  the  tomb,  he  says: — "The  vault 
i>  said  to  be  hewn  in  the  living  roek ;  but  not  a  vestige 
of  it  is  now  seen  :  the  floor,  tombs,  wall,  are  all  marble; 
while  the  upper  part  is  so  blackened  by  the  smoke  of 
lamps  and  incense,  that  it  is  impossible  to  see  what  it  is 
composed  of.     The  rock  may  be  there;  but  if  so, 

"Oh!  if  tin'  lichen  were  but  free  to  twine 

O'er  the  dark  entrance  of  that  rock-hewn  cell, 
Say,  should  we  miss  the  gold-encrustcd  shrine, 

Or  incense  fumes'  intoxicating  spell  ? 
W  iald  not  the  whispering  breeze,  as  evening  fell, 

Make  deeper  music  in  the  palm  trees'  shade 
Than  choral  prayer  or  chanted  ritual's  swell? 

Can  the  [iimuiI  shafts  of  Ib-lima's  enlnnnadu 
Match  thy  time-honored  stones,  Gethsemane's  holy  glade?" 

The  vault  is  covered  over  with  a  small,  misshapen 
structure,  perhaps  twenty  feet  high  and  as  many  long. 
Tie-  dome  of  the  church  was  open,  and  to  keep  the  rain 
from  falling  on  the  sepulchre  beneath,  a  large  cloth  was 


CHURCH    OF    THE     SEPULCHRE.  229 


stretched,  which  spread  entirely  across  the  arch,  and 
protected  the  sacred  structure  below  it,  by  shedding  the 
water  in  a  different  direction.  The  vault  itself  is  a 
narrow  room,  about  eight  feet  long,  and  six  or  seven  feet 
hi«-h.  On  the  right  hand  as  we  enter,  is  the  identical 
coffin — it  is  asserted  by  some — in  which  rested  Jesus.  I 
examined  it  very  closely,  and  saw  very  distinctly  inside, 
the  impression  of  edged  instruments,  as  plain  and 
apparently  as  fresh,  as  if  it  was  hewn  yesterday.  The  vault 
is  not  hewn  from  solid  stone — the  sarcophagus  is.  The 
edge  of  the  latter  is  perfectly  smooth,  and  is  worn 
considerably  away,  by  the  constant  friction  from  the 
hands  of  pilgrims. 

In  all  of  the  four  Evangelists  we  find  reference  made  to 
the  tomb  or  "  sepulchre"  of  the  Saviour.  In  only  one  of 
the  Gospels,  do  we  find  "  tomb"  used— in  the  other  three, 
"  sepulchre"  is  the  word  employed.  This  sepulchre  seems 
to  have  been  considered  by  one  of  the  Evangelists  as 
belonging  to  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  and  by  him  Jesus  was 
laid  in  the  tomb.  By  reference  to  Matthew,  we  read, 
"  And  when  Joseph  had  taken  the  body,  he  wrapped  it 
in  a  clean  linen  cloth,  and  laid  it  in  his  own  new  tomb, 
which  he  had  hewn  out  in  the  rock ;  and  he  rolled  a  great 
stone  to  the  door  of  the  sepulchre  and  departed"  (xxvii. 
59,  60).  In  Mark  we  read,  chapter  xv.  verse  46,  after 
referring  to  the  fact,  that  "Joseph  of  Arimathea,  an 
honorable  counsellor,"  had  craved  the  body  of  Jesus, 
"  And  he  brought  fine  linen,  and  took  him  down,  and 
wrapped  him  in  linen,  and  laid  him  in  a  sepulchre  which 
icas  hewn  out  of  a  rock,  and  rolled  a  stone  unto  the  door 


2  'ii  en  i   urn    OF     in  E     si:rr  LCH  R  E. 


of  the  sepulchre."  The  tomb  is  ool  here  spoken  of  as 
belonging  to  Joseph.  In  St.  Luke  we  read  concerning  this 
same  man  of  Arimatiica.  "  And  he  took  it  down  (( Ihrist'a 
body)  and  wrapped  it  in  Linen,  and  laid  it  in  a  sepulchre 
thai  was  hewn  in  stone,  wherein  never  man  before  was 
buried"  (xxiii.  ;>-">b  In  the  Gospel  according  to  St.  John 
it  seems  thai  Nicodemus,  who  brought  the  "myrrh  and 
aloes,"  assisted  Joseph  in  laying  away  the  body.  "Then 
took  the}  tin1  body  of  Jesus,  and  wound  it  in  linen  clothes. 
with  the  spices,  as  the  manner  of  the  Jews  is  to  bury. 

Now  in  the  plan1  whcri'  he  was  crucified,  there  was  a 
garden;  and  in  the  garden  a  new  sepulchre,  wherein  was 
m  Vi  r  man  laid"  There  is  no  good  reason  as  yet  extant, 
why  this  vault  which  we  saw  to-day,  should  be  identified 
with  the  one  of  which  the  Evangelists  wrote.  Of  that 
and  of  other  vexed  questions  in  regard  to  the  locality  of 
the  sepulchre.  I  shall  speak  again.  I  am  satisfied 
however,  to  keep  this  as  the  site,  for  the  present,  where  this 
sacred  memory  should  be  cherished,  content  with  the 
undeniable  fact — that  whatever  disputes  exist,  this  church 
is  'in  i-'n  w  of  the  actual  spot. 

After  leaving  the  sacred  tomb,  we  turned  in  a  different 
direction,  and  commenced  the  routine  of  the  many  objects 
of  religious  remembrance — sights  which  till  even  the  most 
curious  with  a  surplus  of  the  marvellous,  and  which, 
oevertheiess,  awake  in  the  bosoms  of  all,  something  more 
than  a  momentary  interest.  Directly  in  front  of  the 
large  entrance — the  only  entrance,  by  the  bye — as  we  came 
into  the  mighty  and  solemn  shadow  of  the  overhanging 
tte — is  a  plain  slab  of  dark  gray  marble.      This  marble, 


CHURCH    OF     THE     SEPULCHRE.  231 


it  is  said,  covers  the  actual  stone  of  unction — the  stone  on 
which   the   body  of  Jesus  was  anointed  by  Nicodemus 
and  Joseph  of  Arimathea !     The  marble  is  superadded 
as  a  protection  to  the  more  precious  stone  beneath.     The 
latter,  before  it  was  supplied  with  its  present  covering, 
was  worn  away  considerably  by  friction  from  the  Palmers' 
hands.     We  noticed  several  of  these  enter ;  they  imme- 
diately rushed  straight   toward  the  stone,  and,  bending 
over  it,  pressed  their  foreheads  on  the  cold  marble,  and 
covered   it  with    reverential    tears.     It  was  an  affecting 
sight !     There  was  another  stone  at  Constantinople,  or  it 
is  there  at  present,  which   purports  to  be  the  veritable 
stone  of  unction.     It  is  of  this  religious  wonder,  like  of 
all  others  of  a  similar  nature.     For  instance,  the  Arme- 
nian friars  in  this  place,  pretend  to  have  the  "mighty 
stone"  which  was  rolled  before  the  mouth  of  the  sepulchre 
— yet  there  are  one  or  two  other  sects  who  make  the 
same  assertion.     The  truest  portion  of  the  true  cross,  is 
said  to  be  in  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre — yet  we  were 
shown  the  same  thing  in  St.  Peter's,  at  Rome — while,  if 
my  memory  serves  me  at  all  faithfully,  our  own  American, 
inimitable  Mr.  Barnum,   had,  likewise,  a  piece  of  wood, 
which  was  shown  as  a  piece  of  the  cross.      So,  of  this 
stone  of  unction.     On  account  of  this  ubiquity  of  holy 
objects  and  curiosities,  the  whole  church  and  its  wonders 
necessarily  appear  as  a  sham,  and  the  high  religious  awe 
with  which  we  should  view  these  wonders,  subsides  into 
a  stoical,  indifferent   credulity,  which  plainly  expresses 
our  opinion  of  everything  shown  us,  as  humbug. 

Turning  from  the    Stone  of  Unction,  we  were  next 


CHURCH    OF    THE     SEPULCHRE. 


shown  a  Bhort  circular  granite  pillar,  set  in  the  pavement 
of  the  church.  We  were  told  thai  it  marks  the  spot 
where  Btood  Mary  when  they  were  anointing  the  body 

Of  JeSUS.        Hew    these  sites  can   In-  BO  Well   remembered,   is 

ond  m\  comprehension.  Bui  we  must  he  content  to 
receive  all  these  things  as  real,  Bimply  for  associations' 
sake.     Another  object — this  of  geographical  wonder — our 

fait  guide  pointed  out  to  us;  it  was  nothing  more  nor 
Less  than  a  point  marking  the  centn  of  the  earth!  "Be- 
neath the  centre  of  the  Lantern  (in  the  Greek  Chapel)  is 
i  circle  of  marble  pavement  on  which  stands  a  short 
marble  column,  said  by  a  tradition  as  old  as  the  8th  cen- 
tury to  mark  the  centre  of  tin  earth.  It  has  even  attained 
a  higher  nominal  rank,  lor  Saewulf  assures  us  that  "our 
Lord  Himself  signified  with  His  own  hand  that  this  spot 
is  the  middle  of  the  world,  according  to  the  words  of  the 
Psalmist,  '  For  God  is  my  King  of  old,  making  salvation  in 
the  midst  of  the  earth. '(!)  Fabri  tells  an  amusing  story 
of  a  companion  of  his  who,  perhaps  being  a  little  skep- 
tical, determined  to  prove  the  point ;  and  accordingly  paid 
a  large  sum  for  permission  to  ascend  the  cupola,  and  thus 
rw  whether  or  no  the  sun   gave  him  a  shadow  at 

:i i!      A  -till   later  tradition    affirms  that  it  was  from 

this  distinguished  spot  the  clay  was  taken  out  of  which 
Adam  was  modelled!"  With  all  of  these  sayings  concern- 
ing this  pillar,  fresh  on  our  mind,  however  absurd  the 
traditions,  yet  we  Lingered  with  pleasure  for  several 
moments  over  the  little  pillar,  and  as  we  left  in  search  of 
something  else  equally  curious,  I  heaved  a  sigh  of  regret 
that  we  could  not  Longer  delay  .it  tht   centre  of  the  world. 


CHAPEL    OF     THE     APPARITION. 


Sure  I  am,  as  I  walked  oft',  I  felt  the  power  of  centripetal 

force. 

In  due  time  we  visited  the  Chapel  of  the  Apparition, 
so  called  because,  by  tradition,  the  Lord  here  appeared  to 
Mary  after  the  Resurrection.  That  may  be,  or  it  may 
not  be — and  probabilities  point  strongly  to  the  latter; 
but  of  one  thing  interesting  in  this  connection  we  are 
certain — that  in  this  small  chamber  has  ever  been  per- 
formed the  ceremony  of  dubbing  those  worthy  of  the 
honor — Knights  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem — and  this  cere- 
mony is  performed  here  to  this  day.  I  copy  the  words  of 
an  eminent  writer  on  the  subject,  "  Kneeling  before  the 
superior  of  the  Latin  Convent,  he  (the  candidate)  answers 
the  various  questions  proposed,  joins  in  the  prayer  of  con- 
secration, and  is  girt  with  the  sword  and  spurs  of  the 
heroic  Godfrey;  that  trenchant  blade  wielded  by  the 
Christian  hero  in  many  a.well-fought  field,  and  with  which 
he  is  said  to  have  cloven  to  the  middle  a  Saracen  of 
dsantic  stature — relics  that  cannot  be  handled  even  now 
without  some  glow  of  feeling."  This  then,  because  based 
on  a  sure  foundation,  is,  I  think,  the  most  interesting 
association  connected  with  the  apartment. 

There  are  other  traditions  afloat  concerning  it,  however, 
and  other  noticeable  points,  which  it  may  be  well  simply 
to  mention.  The  particular  spot  where  Jesus  stood  when 
he  appeared  unto  his  mother,  is  marked  by  a  stone.  It 
was  in  the  sacred  precincts  of  the  small  chapel,  that  He- 
lena, the  mother  of  the  Christian  Emperor  Constantine, 
placed  the  three  crosses,  sad  mementoes  of  that  terrible 
day,  when  "  there  was  a  darkness  over  all  the  earth  until 


23  I  i  ii  \  PEL    OF     i  11  r.    a  it  \  1;  i  no  \ 


tlu1  ninth  hour;  ami  the  sun  was  darkened,  and  the  vail 
of  the  temple  was  rent  in  the  midst."  In  a  niche  in  the 
room  also  exists  a  broken  shaft  of  porphyry,  styled  the 
column  of  flagellation,  from  the  Pact  that  to  it  Christ  was 
bound,  when  he  was  Bcourged  by  command  of  Pilate.  We 
did  not  see  the  exact  stone,  or  the  actual  object  itself— for 
it  i-  covered  over,  a  small  hole  letting  through  the  cover- 
ing to  the  stone  beneath.  We  thrusl  a  cane  through  this 
aperture,  ami  had  the  satisfaction  of  thus  i<>u<-j,ii,ij  tj,<  stom  .' 
The  pilgrims,  in  thrusting  the  cane  in.  return  it  and  cover 
it  with  reverential  kisses.  Singular  taste!  As  regards 
this  pillar.  I  am  very  confident  I  saw  one  professing  to  be 
the  same  in  Rome — at  which  church,  I  have  forgotten — 
at  St.  John  de  Lateran,  I  think.  Porter  says  it  is  at  the 
Church  of  St.  Praxede.  In  a  house  where  this  chapel 
now  stands,  it  is  said  that  the  Virgin  Mary  took  refuge 
after  the  crucifixion;  hence  it  is  sometimes  called  the 
( lhapel  of  the  Virgin.  I  came  near  forgetting  another 
tradition  relative  to  this  chapel.  It  is  affirmed  by  the 
Latins,  that  a  piece  of  the  true  cross  was  once  concealed  in 
one  of  the  niches  of  the  apartment,  and  here  remained 
fur  many  years;  hut  that  it  was  finally  stolen  in  the  dead 
of  night  by  the  Armenians.  This  these  latter  deny  most 
strenuously,  and  insist  that  they  came  by  the  true  cross 
rightfully.  I  hear  it  stated,  by  some  who  profess  to  know, 
that  the  Armenians  were  in  truth  innocent  of  the  theft; 
but  have  latU  rly  <i<t<<l  mi  the  suggestion — have  mode  them- 
selves a  cross,  or  a  fragment  and  now  show  it  as  the 
nine — though  by  such  action,  they  institute  a  negative 
proof  of  their  Light-fingered  propensities.     This  piece  of 


CHAPEL    OF     HELENA.  235 


the  cross,  as  I  have  mentioned  before,  is  duplicated  at 
Jtome  in  St.  Peter's.  To  what  an  extent  will  religious 
prejudice  lead  many  !     Comment  is  unnecessary. 

We  were  shown  the  flight  of  steps,  at  the  end  of  the 
church  farthest  from  the  sepulchre,  which  leads  down  to 
what  is  called  the  Chapel  of  Helena.  This  receives  its 
title  from  the  mother  of  Constantine,  as  it  is  said  it  was 
here  that  she  found  the  three  crosses.  The  most  interest- 
ing feature  of  the  place,  I  take  it,  is  an  altar  here  erected 
to  the  penitent  thief  who  said  to  Jesus,  "  Lord,  remember 
me  when  thou  comest  into  thy  kingdom."  The  name  of 
the  thief,  Porter  gives  as  St.  Dimas.  How  he  learned  it, 
I  know  not.  Another  curiosity  here  shown  is  the  chair 
in  which,  we  were  told,  "  Helena  sat  when  overseeing  the 
search  for  the  crosses."  We  did  not  enter  this  chapel ;  we 
contented  ourselves  with  a  look  down  the  cold,  damp 
passage,  in  which,  at  a  short  distance,  we  could  distinctly 
see  the  entrance  to  the  chapel. 

In  a  different  though  not  very  distant  part  of  the 
church,  is  a  vault  eighteen  feet  square,  which  by  some  has 
been  most  properly  called  the  Hall  of  the  Invention  of  the 
Cross — a  suggestive  and  appropriate  title.  Some  guides 
and  guide-books  assert,  according  to  tradition,  that  all 
three  crosses,  and  even  the  nails  themselves  used  in  the 
crucifixion,  and  the  crown  of  thorns,  were  here  found 
beneath  the  sod.  So  it  is,  however,  they  even  dispute 
the  veracity  of  their  respective  traditions,  and  their 
respective  legendary  localities.  I  was  told  by  some  one 
that  in  the  Chapel  of  Helena  the  crosses  were  found.  The 
Latins  deny  this,  and  say  they  were  discovered  in  the 


CROW  \    OF    Tim  K  N  S. 


ll;ill  oi'  the  Invention  of  the  Cross.  The  reason  for  this 
disparity  of  opinion,  on  their  part,  ma}  be  that  the  Ion  nor 
Chapel  (of  Helena)  is  Armenian  property,  while  the  latter 

owns  the  Latin  supremacy.  l>e  thai  as  it  may,  the  actu- 
ality of  the  site  claimed  by  either  of  the  rival  sects  is 
valueless  with  thinking  persons. 

We  were  shown  a  niche  in  the  Large  aisle  of  the  church, 
wherein  it  i-  -aid  formerly  rested  the  veritable  "super- 
scription" which  was  written  over  Him — ••The  King  of 
the  .lews!'"  It  is  said  that  the  "scroll"  is  in  Rome  new. 
though  I  heard  nothing  of  it  when  there;  and  I  am 
generally  good  at  ferreting  out  objects  of  wonder  and 
curiosity.  Not  far  from  this  spot  we  were  shown,  con- 
cealed,  or  rather  protected  behind,  a  glass  case,  the  veri- 
table "crown  of  thorns"  With  what  singular  feelings  I 
gazed  on  that  base  work  of  man's  hand,  and  with  what 
i-t  and  loathing  I  contemplated  for  a  moment  the 
workings  of  that  lewd,  superstitious  religion  which  would 
lead  its  ignorant  and  benighted  followers  to  believe  in 
-mil  wild  and  unreasonable  traditions.  The  "crown" 
looks  to  me  old  enough,  and  covered  over  with  much  dust 
and  many  a  cobweb  of  time;  yet  there  are  certain  marks 
about  it  which  cause  me  to  think  its  date  not  only  not  co- 
eval  with  the  time  of  the  Saviour,  but  that  it  is  not  more 
ancient  than  some  of  the  "oldest  inhabitants"  of  the  fallen 
city.  This  tradition,  however,  is  not  more  absurd  than 
that  related  us  by  our  guide  when  showing  us  a  long 
slender  rod  of  olive  wood  considerably  worn  by  constant 
usage.  "  They  Bay,"  he  said  "  it  is  the  rod  with  which  one 
of  the  soldiers  of  Pilate  -mote  the  Saviour!"    Yet  the  pious 


THE     STOCKS.  207 


pilgrim  kisses  this  cane  most  reverentially.  It  is  a  doubt- 
ful reverence.  Certainly  the  Lord  is  not  glorified  by  the 
observance.  Why  not  snap  the  accursed  stick !  This  is 
not  irreverentially  written.  I  could  scarcely  refrain  from 
smiling  when  our  good  "  huzzar,"  John  Montag,  big  in  his 
faith,  pressed  forward,  and  glued  his  moustached  lip  to 
the  well-mouthed  rod. 

At  the  farther  end  of  a  passage  running  parallel  to  the 
Greek  Chapel — down  a  step  or  so — there  is  a  low,  vault- 
like chamber  about  seventeen  feet  square.  This  cold, 
damp-looking  place,  tradition  tells  us,  was  the  prison  cell 
of  Him  of  Nazareth.  We  were  also  shown,  near  this 
place,  the  stocks  in  which  Christ  was  placed.  These  are 
two  large  holes  cut  into  the  pavement,  and — were  made  by 
the  Crusaders  a  thousand  years  after  Christ  had  left  sinful 
earth  ! 

In  this  region  of  the  church  I  think  the  tombs  of  gal- 
lant Godfrey  and  of  King  Baldwin,  his  brother,  are  placed. 
If  I  recollect  aright,  we  saw  them  beyond  the  Latin 
Chapel,  in  a  vault  several  feet  below  the  pavement  of  the 
church.  I  will  repair  thither  to-morrow  and  satisfy 
myself.  In  my  deferred  explorations,  I  shall  seek — it  is 
here,  I  am  confidently  told — the  Tomb  of  Melckizedek. 

Under  the  roof  of  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre,  is 
grouped  every  Oriental  religion,  with  perhaps  a  single 
exception.  Here  we  find  the  Latin,  the  Greek,  the 
Armenian,  the  Coptic,  &c,  &c,  all  represented.  I  must 
say  I  was  more  pleased  with  the  Armenians,  than  with 
the  representatives  of  the  other  sects.  They  seemed  to 
me,  notwithstanding  their  reputed  thievish  propensities, 


GOLGOTHA. 

a  liberal  and  high-minded  cider.  They  were  generally 
Iran — quite  meagre  in  flesh — and  presented  a  strong 
contrast  to  the  oleaginous  big-paunched  Roman  Catholic, 
who  waddled  with  difficulty  to  tin-  altar  in  his  chapel. 

'Phi'  so-called  Chapel  of  Mocking  is  situated  on  what  is 
termed  Golgotha,  the  entire  extent  of  which,  it  is  pro- 
abraced  under  the  roof  of  the  Church  of  the 
3  mlchre.  We  reached  this  Golgotha,  by  ascending  an 
abrupt,  hnt  short  flight  of  stairs  at  the  farther  end  (from 
the  sepulchre)  of  the  structure.  It  is  said  in  this  chapel, 
or  on  its  site,  they  reviled  Him,  smote  Him,  and  spat 
upon  Him.  We  were  even  shown  the  stone  on  which  He 
-at.  when  they  mockingly  crowned  and  heralded  Him, 
i-  the  King  of  the  Jews.  In  regard  to  Golgotha — what 
the  word  means — our  signification  of  it — and  the  Golgotha 
on  which  Christ  was  crucified,  &c,  &C,  I  shall  have 
occasion  again  to  mention,  and  that  occasion,  I  hope,  will 
be  more  fitting  than  the  present.  Up  this  stairs,  or  on 
Golgotha,  we  were  shown  several  objects  of  religious 
wonder — among  them,  the  holes  in  the  rock  in  which  the 
crosses  reposed,  and  the  rent  in  the  rock  made  when  the 
sky  was  darkened,  on  that  terrible  day,  and  when  the 
••  vail  of  the  temple  was''  riven  asunder.     I  had  the  satis- 

tion  of  placing  my  hand  into  these  orifices,  which  can 
only  be  reached  by  baring  the  arm.  and  thrusting  it 
through  an  aperture  in  the  marble,  which  protects  the 
rock,  or  Golgotha  itself,  beneath.  1  could  not  help 
smiling  in  the  face  of  the  friar,  who  watched  me  very 
closely,  and  scanned  my  features  to  see  what  effect  the 
incredible   Mid]',   which  he   was  telling  us  in  a  whisper, 


GREEK     AND    LATIN     CHAPELS.  239 


would  have  upon  us.  The  Latin  Chapel  is  here  situated ; 
it  pretends  to  stand  on  the  exact  spot  where  Christ  was 
crucified — yet  it  is  not  based  on  the  stone  itself,  but  is 
an  isolated  chamber,  and  stands  upon  a  crypt.  I  have 
never  seen  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  this  incongruity. 
The  Greek  is  by  far  the  richest,  most  gaudy,  and  at  the 
same  time  most  substantial  chapel  beneath  the  great  roof. 
In  it  is  the  seat  of  the  Patriarch  of  Jerusalem,  and  it  is 
in  it  also,  that  we  find  the  stone  which  marks  the  centre 
of  the  Avorld — to  which  sufficient  reference  has  already 
been  made.  There  is  nothing  worthy  of  note  in  the  Latin 
Chapel.  Some  of  the  arches  in  the  Greek  Chapel,  are 
very  beautiful,  and  being  memorials  of  times  of  the 
Crusaders,  they  will  ever  be  regarded  with  much  interest 
and  admiration. 

The  clang  of  closing  doors  warned  us  to  depart,  just  as 
we  had  finished  our  hasty  survey  of  wonderful  things 
beneath  this  remarkable  roof.  Beneath  no  other  dome  in 
the  world  is  there  collected  such  material  for  the  curious 
and  religiously-inclined,  as  we  find  reposing  here  under  the 
broad  shadow  of  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre.  Such,  as 
I  have  given  above  in  rough  detail,  were  the  objects  of 
awe,  and  monuments  of  holy  wonder  which  were  shown 
us.  "  Such  is  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre,  with  its 
eventful  history,  its  thrilling  associations,  and  its  absurd 
traditions,  all  thrown  together  in  hopeless  confusion.  It 
seems  to  be  the  common  centre  of  devotion,  superstition, 
and  imposture.     It  is  the  centre,  too,  of  all 

.    '  That  romance 
Of  many-colored  life  which  fortune  pours 


2  1U  EREC  i'ii>N    OP    Til  k    OB  G  RCH. 


Round  tin-  Crusaders,  till  on  distant  Bhorea 
Their  labors  end:  or  they  return  to  lit-. 
'1'lif  vow  performed,  in  oross-legged  effigy 
Devoutly  Btretohed  upou  their  ohanoel  H 's.'  " 

The  Church  of  the  Sepulchre  lias  experienced  a  chequer- 
ed existence.  It  was  first  buill  in  order  tocover  holy  places 
which,  pears  after  Christ  had  atoned  for  our  sins  with  his 
blood,  wore  discovered,  as  marking  the  scenes  of  his  life 

and  passion.  Some  doubt  has  arisen  as  to  whether  Con- 
Btantine  or  Helena,  his  mother,  hegan  the  erection  of  this 
building.  Different  authorities  are  arrayed  on  both  sides. 
I  believe  it  is  generally  conceded  that,  in  the  year  of  the 
Lord  ">2i>,  Constantino  hegan  the  church.  That  edifice 
presented  an  appearance  very  different  from  the  one  which 
now  occupies  the  same  site.  A  conjectural  plan  of  the 
building,  as  it  then  stood,  can  be  seen  in  "  Williams  Holy 
City."  There  is  no  doubt  but  that  the  Crusaders  re- 
modelled the  whole  building,  and  gave  it  more  of  its  pre- 
sent appearance  than  any  other  people;  but  even  their 
work  has  been  in  a  great  measure  destroyed. 

The  church,  I  believe,  was  first  laid  in  ruins  by  the 
Persians,  Anno  Domini  014.  For  some  time  it  remained 
buried  in  its  own  wreck  ;  but  a  rising  generation  rescued 
it  from  neglect  and  obloquy,  and  restored  it  to  its  former 
grandeur,  adding  also  many  portions  useful  and  orna- 
mental.  In  the  year  L010,  the  church  was  once  more 
destroyed  by  the  orders  of  the  fanatic  Hakim;  but  in  the 
yeai  I  L03  the  Crusaders  came  to  the  land  of  the  Infidel, 
and  under  their  rule  the  church  was,  as  it  were,  built 
anew,  and  was  much  enlarged.     It  seems  that  about  the 


DESTROYED     BY     FIRE.  241 


times  of  the  Crusades,  an  English  monk,  by  name  Saewulf, 
followed  the  knights  to  the  Holy  City,  and  by  dint  of  in- 
defatigable searching  found  and  determined  the  exact  site 
of  many  holy  places — to  his  own  satisfaction.  These  holy 
places  include  the  prison  in  which  our  Lord  was  incar- 
cerated;  the  column  to  which  he  was  bound  when 
scourged ;  the  place  where  he  was  stripped  by  the  sol- 
diers ;  the  spot  where  the  purple  robe  was  put  on  him  ; 
the  place  where  the  soldiers  cast  lots  for  his  raiment ;  the 
rent  in  the  rock  made  by  the  earthquake  ;  the  place  where 
Adam  was  raised  from  the  dead;(?)  the  place  where  the 
Lord's  body  was  wrapped  in  the  linen  clothes ;  the  spot 
where  the  Lord  indicated  with  his  own  hand  the  centre 
of  the  world ;  the  place  where  He  appeared  to  Mary 
Magdalene,  and  the  place  where  the  Virgin  stood  during 
the  Crucifixion  !" 

The  church  flourished  under  the  supervision  of  the 
Knights  of  St.  John  ;  and  beneath  its  roof,  in  that  time, 
some  of  the  most  interesting  ceremonies  of  any  sect  or 
people  were  performed.  Here  many  a  sunny  ray  has 
gleamed  through  the  heavy  stained  glass,  and  lit  up  a 
glorious  pageantry  moving  in  solemn  warrior-procession 
along  the  aisles  of  that  sombre  old  church.  What  tales 
could  these  heavy  walls  relate  even  of  Templar  times  ! 
One  could  spend  a  twelvemonth  with  profit  and  pleasure 
simply  communing  with  the  shadowy  heroes  of  the  dead 
past — under  the  mighty  shadow  of  the  Grabkirsche. 

The  church  remained  as  the  Christian  Knights  had  'left 
it,  until  the  year  1808,  when  it  and  all  of  its  chapels  and 
holy  places  suffered  severely  from  fire.     There  are  many 

16 


•J  J-J  Til  1      «ll  l    RCH     REB  I   I  I.T. 


living  now  in  the  Bast,  who  well  remember  the  awful 
conflagration,  and  the  accompanying  Bcenes  of  terror,  of 
the  nightof  the  L2th  of  October  L808.  Such  was  the 
extent  of  the  injury,  thai  the  roof  fell  in,  and  came  near 
crushing  the  frail  protection  over  the  sepulchre  itself. 
Singular  it  was  to  note  as  Porter  Bays,  how  "both  Latin 
and  Greek  describe,  with  much  exultation,  the  ravages 
of  the  fire  in  the  holy  places  of  their  opponents,  contrast- 
ing this  with  the  miraculous  manner  in  which  their  own 
were  left  unscathed."  But  once  again,  the  different 
religious  elements  in  the  church  furnished  a  courage 
sufficient  to  recommence  its  erection  even  yet  once  mote  ; 
and  after  much  wrangling  and  much  dispute,  among  the 
different  creeds  and  sects  engaged  in  the  work,  the 
-tincture  was  finally  completed  in  the  year  1810.  It  was 
then  consecrated;  the  architect,  a  Greek  native  of  Mity- 
lene.  was  publicly  blest, — and  such  the  church  remains  to 
this  day,  without  a  single  alteration  or  addition. 

I  was  informed  here  of  a  rather  novel  explanation  or 
account,  rather,  of  the  origin  of  the  late  Crimean  war,  in 
which  England,  France,  and  Russia  appeared  as  chief 
combatant-  in  the  grand  field  of  battle.  It  was  this: — 
The  dome  of  the  church  directly  over  the  sepulchre  gave 
way,  and  in  a  short  time,  the  result  was  a  large  opening 
through  which  the  rains  and  dews  from  heaven,  and  the 
dust  from  the  streets  of  Jerusalem,  came  in  without 
restraint.  This  state  of  affairs  was  deplorable,  and  must 
be  altered.  But — who  should  be  those  FAVORED  with  the 
holy  work?  Thai  was  the  question,  a  sad  one  indeed,  as 
te   sequel  well  proved.     The  Greek  Church  being  some- 


THE     HOLY     FIRE. 


what  predominant,  assumed  to  itself  the  particular  duty 
of  seeing  to  the  reparation  of  the  defect  in  the  wall. 
This  was  more  than  the  Latins  could  tamely  bear,  and 
they,  in  defiance  to  the  Greek  Church,  immediately 
arrogated  to  themselves  the  duty  of  being  prime  movers 
in  this  divine  task,  as  they  termed  it.  Now  it  so  happened 
that  the  Greek  Church,  then,  as  now,  was  represented 
politically  by  Russia — and  the  Latins  by  France.  These 
respective  representatives  busied  themselves  with  the 
matter,  until  finally  it  assumed  a  political  aspect  entirely. 
Next  we  heard  of  the  entanglement  of  Turkey,  and  then 
speedily  followed  the  unjust  levies,  and  then,  war !  This 
origin  is  far-fetched,  but  I  k-  tell  the  tale  as  it  was  told 
to  me." 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  ceremonies  that  ever  takes 
place  under  the  roof  of  this  church,  is  the  annual  giving 
to  the  people  on  Easter  Sunday,  the  Holy  Fire.  I  will 
simply  say  a  few  words  here,  to  fill  up  this  day's  Journal, 
concerning  this  phenomenon,  if  I  may  so  call  it,  reserving 
to  a  later  date  a  more  detailed  description.  It  is  pre- 
tended that  this  holy  fire  descends  from  heaven,  trans- 
forms water  into  oil,  lights  all  the  lamps  of  the  church, 
and  gives  to  him  who  is  so  fortunate  as  to  light  his  candle 
by  it,  a  hope,  or  almost  certainty,  of  the  golden  crown  in 
the  Great  Hereafter.  A  shallower  and  baser  fraud,  and 
more  complete  imposture,  was  never  practised  on  any 
people.  Suffice  it  here  to  remark,  that  though  the  flame 
is  heavenly,  yet  it  is  not  more  heavenly  than  that  of  any 
other  Lucifer. 

After  leaving  the  sacred  edifice  under  the  guidance  of 


•J  I  i  A.    GOOD    DINNER. 


Mr  Theil,  our  Landlord,  we  Btrolled  through  the  Bazaars. 
Sunday  here  ia  the  greal  selling  day  of  the  week;  and 
"sellers"  and  "lenders  of  money"  congregate  around  the 
Temple  Wall,  and  in  the  Btreets,  as  they  did  in  the  time 
of  the  Saviour.  A.fter  sauntering  slowly  through  the 
Bazaars,  we  returned  home  and  partook  of  a  dinner 
which,  in  duty  bound,  1  must  Bay,  was  the  best  1  have 
calm  since  my  arrival  in  the  walls  of  Jerusalem.  Mr. 
Theil,  good  soul  !  had  made  an  especial  trip  to  Bethlehem, 
and  purchased  a  nice  pig,  he  assured  me,  for  my  benefit. 
1  am.  indeed,  under  many  obligations  to  him.  In  the 
afternoon  Mr.  S — tt  went  to  hear  Dr.  Gobat  preach.  He 
was  much  pleased.  I  intended  going  with  Esslinger  and 
Montag  to  German  services,  hut  I  concluded  to  remain 
with  S..  whose  leg,  from  yesterday's  adventure — the  horse- 
ki,.jv — confined  him  to  his  room. 

We  passed  the  afternoon  and  evening  very  pleasantly 
in  meditating  on  and  conversing  about  the  sacred  sites 
amid  which  we  are  just  now  sojourners.  We  were 
visited  after  tea  by  a  young  East-Indian  named  Ibrahim 
Mordecai.  lie  came  to  us  recommended  as  dragoman,  by 
Dr.  Gorham,  Tinted  States  Consul  in  this  place.  lie  is 
a  handsome  fellow,  and  intelligent  withal.  I  imagine  we 
will  employ  him. 

Mr.  S — tt  went  out  some  time  since  for  the  purpose  of 
visiting  Dr.  Barclay;  he  has  not  yel  returned,  and  I  am 
afraid  h«-  is  lost.      It  is  now  after  9  o'clock. 

Our  plans  for  to-morrow  are  unsettled.  We  shall  have 
a  photographic  view  of  our  part}',  taken  in  the  Garden  of 
Gethsemane,  or  shall  make  an  excursion  to  "  Bethlehem 
of  Judea." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Prussian  Hospice,  Jerusalem. 
Monday,  March  7th,  1859. 
^"^^HIS  morning  we  arose  after  a  night  of  the  most 
refreshing  slumber,  each  man  doubly  invigorated 
and  filled  with  recruited  desires  to  see  the  many 
noted  places  crowded  together  within  the  walls  of 
El-Kuds. 

Having  finished  my  breakfast,  for  which  Bethlehem  be 
praised  ! — for  my  pig  again  made  his  appearance — Ibra- 
him, the  East  Indian,  to  whom  I  have  before  referred, 
entered  the  apartment  and  made  us  a  genuine  Oriental 
bow.  After  much  wrangling,  we  made  an  agreement  with 
him  to  conduct  us  to  Jordan  and  the  Dead  Sea — he  acting 
as  our  dragoman.  The  arrangement  was,  that,  upon  each 
one  of  us  paying  him  seventy  piastres  (or  about  $2.80),  he 
would  take  it  upon  himself  to  guide  us  safely  to  Jordan — 
Dead  Sea — would  allow  us  to  sleep  securely  amid  the 
ruins  at  Jericho,  and  would  land  us  again  safely  in  Jerusa- 
lem after  all  this  had  been  accomplished — he,  the  said 
Ibrahim,  to  be  our  dragoman,  protector,  landlord,  gargon, 
and  cook.  In  view  of  the  unfortunate  state  of  the 
weather,  we  made  this  condition,  that  the  agreement 
should  be   fulfilled  on  the  first  fair  clay.     Having  thus 

(245) 


POO  l.    OF    li  I'./  i:  K  I  A  li. 


settled    the  excursion   among  ourselves,   Mr.   S — tt  ami 
myself,  accompanied  l>\   Ibrahim,  repaired  to  tin-  office  of 

our  roii-ul.  ami  there  confirmed  our  bargain  in  his  pre- 
sence. This  part  «»t'  our  procedure  is  an  all-necessarj 
item,  else  nol  onh  our  money  would  not  lie  Bafe,  1  >u t  our 
lives  would  be  jeopardized  in  an  excursion  of  this  extent, 
leading  as  it  does  through  the  worst  districts  contiguous  to 
Jerusalem.  In  agreeing  with  a  dragoman  to  accompany 
as  on  this  trip,  it  is  the  business  of  said  dragoman  always 
to  acl  un.hu-  the  authority  of  the  pacha.  The  American 
Consul  (in  our  case),  who  witnesses  the  agreement,  holds 
the  pacha  responsible  for  our  safe-keeping ;  and  the  pacha 
looks  to  the  sheikhs  of  the  tribes  through  which  we  have 
to  pass,  with  whom  he  lias  a  standing  stipulated  treat)- as 
respects  this  crossing  of  their  territory.  *Sb  safe  an-  we 
under  these  arrangements,  that,  1  understand,  were  we  to 
lose  so  much  (or  so  little,  I  mighl  say)  as  a  pin,  we  could 
recover  damages  to  the  fullest  extent!  Our  consul — he 
must  excuse  me  tor  recording  it — treated  us  t<>Ur<i]>l>j 
politely,  omitting,  if  1    mistake  not.  to  ask   us   to  take  a 

.  or  to  ''ill  on  him  ;  hut.  to  make  up  for  this  little  over- 
sight, he  gave  us  a  view  of  the  ancient  pool  of  Bezekiah 
li  believe)  from  a  hack  window  of  his  house.     This  "over* 

tit"  was  better  in  keeping  than  the  other.  Whether  or 
not  this  is  really  the  " pool"  made  by  King  Bezekiah  I 
cannot  Bay;  it  corresponds  with  said  pool  of  antiquity 
very  well.  In  ^  Kin--  xx.  20,  and  "J  Chron.  xxxii.  30, 
we  learn  thai  Bezekiah  brought  thisconduil  straight  down 
toil,,  west  side  of  the  city.  Doctor  Robinson  says — "To 
i   j)().,l   li,,     presenl   reservoir  entirely  corresponds; 


CHEAPNESS    OF    GOLD.  247 


and  it  is  also  fed  in  a  similar  manner."    So  we  were  more 
than  repaid  for  all  rebuffs  by  the  sight  of  this  ancient  pool. 

In  looking  over  the  register  at  the  consulate,  I  saw 
several  names  which  are  quite  familiar  to  me;  among 
others,  that  of  Mr.  W.  B.  Astor,  of  New  York  city,  U.  S., 
whose  acquaintance  I  enjoyed  not  very  long  since  in  Flo- 
rence, at  the  Hotel  de  Yorck. 

From  our  consul's  we  crossed  over  the  open  space  by 
the  Tower  of  Hippicus,  and  called  on  our  most  important 
man — our  banker.  My  letter-of-credit  from  John  Monroe 
&  Co.,  Rue  de  la  Paix,  Paris,  was  duly  presented,  and 
immediately  honored  by  Mr.  Bergheim.  I  was  surprised 
at  the  cheapness  of  gold ;  I  paid  no  premium  at  all  on 
napoleons ;  yet  in  Rome,  many  hundred  miles  nearer  the 
French  capital,  I  paid  a  heavy  per  centage.  I  learn  that 
the  reason  of  this  is  that  the  authorities  wish,  and  have 
given  orders  to  bankers,  to  get  rid  of  foreign  money  as 
speedily  as  possible,  in  order  to  give  more  value  to  domes- 
tic currency.  This  is  a  shallow  reason,  I  think,  at  best ; 
and  I  am  sure  the  genuine  cause  of  this  fortunate  effect 
(to  us)  is  to  be  found  in  the  laws  of  exchange,  which,  so 
far  as  regards  this  region,  are  but  little  known  to  me. 
,  Meinherr  Bergheim  is  a  pleasant  fellow,  so  to  speak ;  he 
is  a  genuine — talking,  smooth-tongued,  sharp-eyed — Ger- 
man-Jew ;  and  I  am  convinced,  from  the  humbleness  of 
his  attire  and  speech,  that  he  is — enormously  wealthy. 
As  a  general  rule,  in  regard  to  Jews  (there  are  exceptions, 
and  particularly  at  Jaffa),  these  two  diagnostic  symptoms 
constitute  a  sufficient  basis  on  which  to  pronounce  our 
prognosis  of  wealth  or  poverty. 


DE  NISS     1'  I!  r.     I'll  OTOG  B  A  P  II  E  R. 


From  Bergheim's,  Mr.  S — (t  and  myself  strolled  off  in 
search  of  Denies  the  photographer,  recommended  us  by 
Dr.  Barclay.  He  is  the  only  one  in  Jerusalem;,  and  [say 
mimended,  because  Dr.  Barclay,  learning  our  desires  in 
rd  i*i  having  views  taken,  &c,  unasked,  gave  Mr. 
Deniss  a  good  name — a  fortune  possessed  by  very  few, 
according  to  my  observations,  by  "Jew  or  Gentile,"  in 
this  country.  After  numerous  adventures,  we  at  length 
found  the  house  of  which  we  were  in  search  ;  bul  our 
friend  the  photographer  was  not  in.  His  wife  was  kind 
enough  to  show  us  specimens  of  her  husband's  art — and. 
really,  I  must  say  they  were  superb.  1  have  seen  photo- 
graphy  in  New  York.  London.  Paris,  Rome,  &c,  yet  1 
have  never  seen  any  to  excel  thai  of  Deniss. 

It  seems  a  little  singular  that  Deniss — in  plain  par- 
can  afford  to  live  here  by  the  fruits  of  his  profes- 
sion. I  understand  the  natives  never  avail  themselves 
of  his  craft;  so  he  must  live  by  selling  abroad  his  views 
of  Holy  Land  scenery,  and  by  the  encouragement  he 
receives  from  visiting  Hadjis  like  ourselves.  He  is  a 
Russian;  converses  well  in  several  languages;  is  a  very 
handsome,  easy,  and  aceoniplished  fellow,  and  is  a  Pro- 
mt. On  returning  home,  Mr.  S — tt  called  by  Dr. 
Barclay's,  and  I  ventured  to  find  the  way  alone  to  our 
rs  at  the  Hospice.  I  was  repaid  for  my  presumption 
by  being  losi  for  an  hour  or  two.  These  bazaars  are 
almost  interminable,  and  it  puts  one  "to  his  wits' end" 
to  keep  in  his  mind  the  points  of  the  compass.  In  this 
connection  I  would  state  what  I  came  near  forgetting, 
that  S — tt.  in  coming  home  last  night  from  Dr.  Barclay's, 


CHURCH    OF     ST.     JAMES.  249 


lost  his  way  among  the  numerous  winding  paths  of  the 
old  city,  and  came  near  sleeping  in  the  pacha's  seraglio, 
or  guard-house.  However,  he  managed  to  find  his  way 
back  to  Dr.  Barclay's,  whence  he  was  conducted  to  the 
Hospice.  He  gave  us  a  most  vivid  and  yet  a  most  ludi- 
crous description  of  his  feelings  as  he  wandered  back  and 
forth  through  the  deserted  bazaars,  fearing  every  moment 
that  his  flickering  lantern  would  "go  out,"  and  leave  him 
in  the  lurch. 

After  dinner  we  accepted  Mr.  J — b — sn's  invitation  to 
show  us  again  around  the  city,  and  set  out  in  his  com- 
pany. We  called  by  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre,  and 
uazed  on  its  sacred  relics  and  wonders  again.  We  visited 
once  more  the  very  spot  on  which  we  were  told  that  the 
crucifixion  took  place.  By  another  examination  of  the 
"  rent  in  the  rock,"  I  detected  plainly,  as  I  thought,  by 
the  sense  of  touch,  the  marks  of  edged  tools.  But  I  did 
not  hint  the  fact  to  our  reverend  guide.  To  what  super- 
lative nonsense  we  are  compelled  to  listen  ! 

Under  Mr.  J — b — sn's  guidance,  we  wended  our  way 
next  to  the  fine  Church  of  St.  James.  This  splendid  edi- 
fice belongs  to  the  Armenians,  and  I  think,  without 
'  exception,  it  is  superior  to  any  like  structure  in  the  city, 
not  even  excepting  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre.  The 
Church  of  St.  James  is  situated  at  some  distance  from  the 
Prussian  Hospice,  and  is  very  near  the  Anglican  Chapel. 
I  was  particularly  struck  with  the  arrangement  of  the 
floor,  which  is  beautifully  tesselated,  and  with  the  magni- 
ficent inlaid  doors  of  mother-of-pearl — doors  which  were 
massive  in  proportions.     This  church  is  built  on  the  sup- 


•_'-">il  SPRINKLED     WITH     ROSE-WATER. 


posed  site  of  the  death  of  St.  James.  In  a  small  side 
chapel,  most  gorgeously  and  most  gaudily  furnished,  we 
were  shown  a  stone  said  to  be  the  one  on  which  St.  .lames 
was  decapitated.  We  also  had  the  pleasure  of  sitting  in 
a  vcr\  handsome  massive  chair  said  to  be  the  one  formerly 
s  Ibythi  apostle.  Judging  from  its  evident  costly  nature, 
1  am  far  from  thinking  that  the  apostle  was  in  needy  cir- 
cumstances. 

Upon    presenting   a    priest    with    some    small    pieces    of 

money,  we  were  mosl  plentifully  besprinkled  from  head 
to  lout  with  rose-water  of  a  most  delicate  and  exquisite 
odor — a  procedure  which  much  surprised  Meinherr,  the 
"huzzar."  The  Armenian  Convent,  a  magnificent  build- 
in-,  is  in  juxtaposition  to  the  church.  At  another  time  I 
shall  speak  of  it  more  fully. 

On  our  return  to  the  Hospice,  we  came  by  an  old 
German  lady's,  and  purchased  some  handsome  flowers. 
beautiful  and  tasty  souvenirs  of  Jerusalem,  of  Olivet. 
Dead  Sea,  &c,  &c.  We  got  home  late,  and  immediately 
took  tea,  after  which  Mr.  Deniss,  the  photographer,  called 
on  us,  and  we  made  definite  arrangements  relative  to  our 
photograph.     The  weather  is  bitter  cold. 

Prussian  Hospice,  Jerusalem.  ) 
Tuesday,  March  8th,J.859.  j 
Last  night,  after  Buffering  intense  agony  from  a  carious 
tooth,  1  fell  into  an  uneasy  slumber,  which,,  fortunately 
for  my  peace  of  body,  lasted  till  morning.  Fortunately 
lor  the  piea  of  tooth,  there  is  no  dentist  in  this  old  city, 
else  it  had  fallen  a  \  ictim  to  the  forceps  as  soon  as  I  could 


TOOTHACHE.  251 


see  my  way.  Toothache,  I  take  it,  is  man's  moral  tester. 
Ache — ache  ! — throb  ! — throb! — and  it  increases  the  more 
you  endeavor  to  allay  the  harrowing  torment;  while  all 
of  your  companions,  with  gentle,  easy,  regular  breathing, 
sleep  away  their  time  and  trouble  in  blissful  slumber,  and 
their  ear  is  deaf  to  your  sobs  of  pain,  wrung  out  in  spite 
— of  your  teeth.  Worse  than  agony,  by  far !  A  flattering 
calm  cheats  you  into  the  idea  that  there  is  a  total  cessa- 
tion of  pain,  and  that  the  grim  monster,  who,  plunging  away 
with  hammer  and  gouge  at  the  roots  of  your  teeth,  has 
finally  left  you,  satisfied  with  that  base  work  which  he  can 
well  call  Ms  own.  But,  in  a  twinkling,  like  a  flash  of  light- 
ning, that  same  dreaded  pang  darts  through  your  system, 
shatters  your  bright  prospects  of  speedy  rest  and  sweet 
repose,  and  hurls  before  your  distorted  gaze  hideous,  tor- 
turing pictures  of  all-night  agony !  Such  was  my  sad 
experience  last  night — a  like,  I  hope,  mine  never  to  be 
again.  My  exhausted  energies  too  forcibly  attest  now 
the  severity  of  the  struggle  last  night. 

Well,  to  confess  the  truth,  this  day  has  been  spent  by 
us  mostly  in  grumbling ; — by  us,  I  say  and  mean,  without 
a  single  exception.  The  weather  seems  bent  on  being  con- 
trary, and  as  if  determined  it  will  never  favor  us  and  our 
well-laid  plans.  It  is  constantly  unpropitious,  and  I 
really  beiieve  it  grows  worse  on  every  succeeding  day. 
We  remained,  as  a  consequence,  in  doors  until  late  in  the 
day,  not  daring  and  not  desiring  to  venture  out  in  such 
weather.  We  amused  ourselves  chiefly  by  looking  at  the 
various  curiosities  brought  us  for  inspection,  and  for  sale 
{ultimate  object,  of  course),  by  the  Arabs,  from  the  city 


i.  v  RG  LINING     PO  R    CG  R  [OS  I  T  I  6S. 


and  from  Bethlehem.  These  curiosities  were,  pearl-shells 
and  brooches,  and  olive-wood  ornaments,  such  as  small 
cups,  balls,  blocks,  and  canes.  Some  of  the  shells  and 
brooches  arc  carved  with  a  considerable  degree  of  skill, 
and  reflect  credit  on  the  rude  workers  in  the  art.  It  is 
amusing  to  sec  at  what  exorbitant  prices  these  wandering 
merchants  at  first  value  their  articles.  1  Bay,  at  first,  for 
they  invariably  take,  and  arc  verj  glad  to  get,  even  half 
dt'  their  primal  price.  I  have  an  instance  in  mind: — I 
was  much  pleased  with  a  large  pearl-shell  which  a  fellow 
was  exhibiting.  I le  saw  my  anxiety  to  procure  the  article. 
On  demanding  its  price.  I  was  very  much  surprised  to 
hear  him  say,  in  the  coolest  manner  possible, fivehundred 
piastres!  (A  piastre  is  worth  four  American  cents!)  I 
turned  away  immediately,  and,  as  S.  termed  it.  tried  to 
■  Cornt  the  Yankee"  on  him.  I  pretended  1  did  not  wish 
the  shell  at  any  price,  and  would  consider  it  dear  if  he 
should  give  it  to  me.  Well,  I  finally  obtained  the  orna- 
ment very  easilj  for  twenty-two  piasters — about  its  worth. 
Among  other  article-.  1  purchased  some  very  pretty  black 
wooden  beads — very  odoriferous — from  Mecca.  I  laid  in 
quite  a  stock  of  sandal  and  olive  wood,  and  camels'-bone 
rosaries,  bloodstones  and  cornelians;  all  were  remark- 
ably cheap.  It  is  quite  a  treat  to  have  an  Arab  merchant 
in  your  room,  and  a  dance  at  his  gewgaws  wtfl  interest 
any  one. 

Pretty  late  iii  the  day  we  strolled  over  to  the  Mount 
of  Olives,  and  enjoyed  the  scene  presented  from  the  sum- 
mit of  the  sacred  mountain.  A  position  is  here  afforded 
where  we  can  Btand  wrapped  in  our  own  thoughts  and 


VIEW     FROM     MOUNT    OLIVET.  253 


commune  silently  yet  sweetly  with  fancyings  of  the  dead 
p;lst_can  bring  the  long-buried  actors  of  that  far  religious 
time  into  life  again,  and  view  in  the  mind's  eye  some  of 
those  stirring   scenes  which  here  presented    a    spectacle 
to    the  world    in    that    great  drama   in  which   the    Son 
of  God  played  the  tragic  part.     A  melancholy,  yet  sad 
and  sweet  employment — one  in  which  we  all  indulged. 
The  Mount  of  Olives  is  in  fact  the  grand  stand-point  from 
which  to  take  a  first  and  final  view  of  Jerusalem  and  the 
surrounding  country.     The  general  outline  of  the  "  wil- 
derness of  Judea  and  the  regions  beyond  Jordan" — the 
long  blue  ridge  of  the  Moab  Mountains,  and  the  neighbor- 
ing fields  of  Bethlehem,  in  which  Ruth  gleaned,  can  be 
distinctly  seen.     "  Taking  our  stand,  then,  we  look  down 
the  shelving  side  of  Olivet  into  the  dark,  bare  glen  of  the 
Kidron,  sweeping  from  the  distance  on  the  right  away 
down  to  the  left.     The  eye  follows  it  till  it  is  joined  by 
another  dark  ravine,  coming  in  from  behind  a  high  ridge 
to  the  westward.     That  ravine  is  Hinnom,  and  that  ridge 
is  Zion.     On  the  left  bank  of  the  Kidron  we  can  just 
observe  through  the  olive  trees  the  white  pointed  top  of 
Absalom's  Pillar,  and  the  flat  gravestones  of  the  Jewish 
cemetery,  and  farther  to  the  left,  the  gray  excavated  cliffs 
and  houses  of  Siloam.    In  the  foreground  beyond  the  ravine 
is  the  beautiful  enclosure  of  the  Haram — the  octagonal 
mosk,  with  its  noble  dome  in  the  centre,  occupying  the 
site  of  Oman's  threshing-floor  and  Solomon's  Temple ;  the 
flagged  platform  around  it ;  and  then  a  grassy  area  with 
its  olives  and  cypresses  encircling  the  whole.     At  the  left- 
hand  extremity  is  the  Mosk  el-Aksa,  easily  distinguished 


V  l  E  W     FROM     KOI    NT    OLIV  ET. 


by  its  peaked  roofs(?)  and  dome — Formerly  the  Churcb 
of  St.  Mary.  Beside  the  enclosure,  at  the  right-hand 
corner,  is  a  prominenl  group  of  buildings,  with  a  tall 
minaret  adjoining  them.  This  is  the  pacha's  residence 
and  tin1  site  of  the  Fortress  of  Antonia.  The  massive 
ancient  masonry  at  the  southern  angle  of  the  wall  is  very 
conspicuous;  and  so  likewise  is  the  double-arched  gate- 
way in  the  side,  generally  known  as  the  'Golden  Gate,' 
now  walled  up.  Farther  to  the  right,  north  of  the  Haram 
area,  is  St.  Stephen's  Gate,  and  the  white  path  winding 
up  to  it  front  the  bottom  of  the  Kidron  at  the  Garden  of 
Gethsemane.  Northward  of  the  gate,  along  the  brow  of 
the  valley,  nms  the  city  wall.  Formidable-looking  in  the 
distance  with  its  square  tower.  To  the  right  of  the 
Haram  a  broad  irregular  ridge  extends  northward,  thinly 
inhabited,  interspersed  with  gardens  and  crowned  by  a 
mosk  and  minaret.  This  is  Bezetha.  The  low  ridge  of 
Ophel  is  on  the  opposite  side  o!"  the  Haram,  sinking  down 
rapidly  into  the  bed  of  the  Kidron  behind  Siloam  ;  it 
contains  no  buildings,  but  is  thickly  sprinkled  with  olives. 
It  can  now  be  seen  how  these  three  hills,  Bezetha,  Moriah, 
and  Ophel,  Form  one  long  ridge.  Behind  them  is  a  valley 
dividing  the  city  From  north  to  south,  and  Falling  into  the 
Kidron  just  above  its  junction  with  Hinnom.  At  its 
northern  l",u\.  hid  by  Bezetha,  is  the  Damascus  Gate;  and 
the  southern  section  of  it.  beyond  the  Haram,  was 
anciently  called  the  Tyropaeon. 

••On  another  very  prominent  ridge  lies  the  western 
section  of  the  city.  To  the  right  is  Akra,  rising  to  an 
angle,  uear  which  we  distinguish  the  large  white  build- 


VIEW     FROM     MOUNT    OLIVET.  !■)■) 


ings  of  the  Latin  convent,  reminding  one  of  a  factory ; 
below  them,  a  little  to  the  left,  are  the  two  domes  and 
heavy  square  tower  of  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre; 
and  still  further  to  the  left,  a  green  field,  marking  the 
site  of  the  ancient  palace  of  the  knights  of  St.  John. 
x\kra  is  now  the  Christian  quarter  of  the  city.  To  the  left 
is  Zion,  still  the  most  prominent  of  all  the  hills.  Its 
northern  limits  are  distinctly  marked  by  the  massive 
towers  of  the  citadel,  rising  up  from  a  slight  depression 
in  the  ridge.  Close  to  these,  but  presenting  a  striking 
contrast  in  its  fresh  look,  is  the  English  church ;  further 
to  the  left  is  the  Armenian  convent,  a  vast  irregular 
mass  of  houses,  with  a  little  dome  in  the  midst  of  them. 
The  Jewish  quarter  occupies  the  steep  face  of  the  hill,  its 
half-ruinous  houses  hanging  one  above  another.  Without 
the  wall  on  the  south  is  a  group  of  buildings,  amid  which 
we  see  a  white  dome  and  high  minaret,  marking  the 
Mahommedan,  and  probably  the  real,  tomb  of  David. 
From  this,  the  hill  breaks  down  in  terraces  of  olives  to 
the  Valley  of  Hinnom. 

"On  the  south  side  of  the  Valley  of  Hinnom  is  the  Hill 
of  Evil  Counsel,  so  called  by  the  monks,  with  a  ruined 
village  and  a  solitary  tree  on  its  summit.  Beyond  it  is 
the  green  plain  of  Rephaim,  or  '  Valley  of  the  Giants ;' 
and  away  on  the  south,  about  three  miles  distant,  we 
observe  the  convent  of  Elias,  crowning  a  ridge  on  the 
road  to  Bethlehem.  Turning  northward,  the  only  con- 
spicuous place  in  the  distance  is  Neby  Samwil,  the 
ancient  Mizpeh,  easily  distinguished  by  its  high  tower. 
Along  the  whole  western  horizon  runs  a  uniform  line  of 


256  \  l  l  w     FROM     KOU  N  T    OLl  v  E  r. 


brown  lulls,  about  equal  in  altitude  t<>  those  on  which 
the  v  i t \-  stands. 

"Such  is  the  western  view  from  the  summit  of  Olivet: 

ami  the  eastern  one  Bcarce  yields  to  it  in  interest,  while  it 

tar  surpasses  it   in  extent.     The   latter,  however,  is  hnt 

seen   from  a  little  wely,  called   Kubbet  esh-Shuhada,  -the 

Dome  of  the  Witnesses,'  about  two  hundred  yards  beyond 

the   minaret.      Here    we   stand   on    the    very    brow   of  the 

mount.     Tin'  'Wilderness  of  Judea'  commences  at  our 

feet;   shelves  down   in   a  succession  of  naked  white  hills 

and  dreary  gray  dens   lor  ten    miles  or  more,   and   then 

dip-   abruptly  into   the  deep  valley  of  the  Jordan.     A 

scene  of  sterner  desolation  could  not  be  imagined.     The 

Jordan   valley  conies    from   the   distance    in    the   north, 

gradually  expanding  into  a  white  plain,  and  terminating 

at  the  Dead  Sea,  a  section  of  whose  waters  is  seen  over 

the  lower  dill's  of  the  -Wilderness.'     The  winding  course 

of  the  .Ionian   can    be    traced    for  some   distance    up  the 

plain,    by   its  dark  line  of   verdure.      Away  beyond  this 

long   valley    rises    suddenly   a   long   unbroken  mountain 

range,  like   a    huge   wall,  stretching  north   and  south,  as 

tar  as  the  eve  can  follow  it.     The  section  on  the  right  is 

within  the  territory  of  Moab;   that  in  the  centre  directly 

opposite  ns.  was  possessed  by  the  Ammonites;   while  that 

on   the  left    hand   was  anciently  called  Gilead,  and  still 

retains  its  name.      Evening  is  the  proper  time  for  this 

view,  for  then   the  pale   blue   lights   and  purple  shadows 

on    the   Moab  Mountains   are  exquisitely  beautiful.      The 

•lire,  too,  of  the  white  wilderness  is  subdued;  and  the 


A     KEEN     TRADER.  257 


deep  valley  below  appears  still  deeper  from  being  thrown 
into  shade." 

I  did  not  remain  on  Olivet  as  long  as  the  others  of  my 
party  did ;  fearing  exposure  to  such  inclement  weather,  I 
hastened  home,  and  was  glad  enough  when  I  was  snugly 
seated  by  a  cosy  fire  at  home,  with  my  guide-book  in  rny 
hand.  As  I  came  along,  I  saw  a  pair  of  handsome  pistols 
(Arab),  and  wishing  them,  more  as  a  memento  than  any- 
thing else,  I  offered  the  old  fellow  of  the  Bazaar  a  fair 
bargain  for  them  with  my  Neapolitan,  and  more  effective, 
weapon.  But  no — he  did  not  wish  to  sell  them  anyway; 
but  if  I  would  pay  him  the  price  he  asked,  and  then  give 
him  my  pistol  to  hoot,  perhaps  he  would  trade.  Singular 
idea,  I  thought — first,  to  value  my  pistol  at  nothing ;  se- 
cond, to  be  willing,  if  he  sold  at  all,  to  sell  at  a  certain 
price  ;  third,  to  wish  my  pistol,  after  having  received  full 
pay  for  his ;  and  fourth,  to  have  articles  for  sale  which 
he  was  not  anxious  to  dispose  of!  He  was  a  Turk,  else 
I  would  have  adjudged  him  guilty  of  indulging  too  fondly 
in  our  Western  habit  or — juice  (?).     So  I  left  him. 

In  the  afternoon  we  called  on  Mr.  Deniss,  and  were  for- 
tunate enough  to  find  him  in.  We  purchased  of  him 
quite  freely;  I  bought  twelve  magnificent  photographic 
views  of  him,  these  views  representing  Jerusalem,  Betha- 
ny, Bethlehem,  &c. 

As  it  is  somewhat  dull,  and  too  soon  to  retire  for  the 
night,  it  is  proposed  that  some  one  tell  a  story.  Esslinger 
is  preparing  to  gratify  our  wishes,  and  so  I  will  lay  aside 
my  pen  and  listen. 


17 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Prussian  Hospice,  Jerusalem. 
Wednesday,  March  9th,  1859. 
HIS  has  been,  in  part,  the  worst  day  I  ever  spent 
\\S)  anywhere!  Snow,  wind,  and  rain — loajours!  and 
the  thermometer  ranging  from  low  to  lower 
throughout  the  long,  weary  twelve  hours  that 
measured  the  space  between  dawn  and  sunset.  Terrible! 
and  to  spend  our  precious  time  idly  thus,  while  around 
us  are  curiosities  of  religion  and  instructive  wonder,  spread 
with  a  lavish  hand!  It  is  doubly  hard  that  such  should 
be  our  fate.  However,  we  should  not  murmur,  bearing 
in  mind  that  it  is  a  high  and  blessed  privilege  to  be  in 
this  once-favored  of  all  lands,  at  any  time  and  in  any 
weather  He  may  choose  to  send  on  earth.  We  were  com- 
pelled to  read,  in  self-defence;  the  weather  was  too  un- 
propitious  even  to  stroll  through  the  bazaars.  So  we 
Laughed,  read,  lounged,  and — grumbled;  our  reverend 
friend,  even,  nolens  volens,  indulging  just  a  little  bit  in  the 
latter.  Esslinger  is  in  perfect  despair;  and  the  warlike 
"  huzzar"  has  relapsed  into  a  perfect  state  of  "  don't  care," 
as  he  reflects  on  the  tact  that  he  has  to  remain  here  any- 
way, be  the  weather  ;j<iod  i  r  had,  until  the  ceremonies  of 
tl,.-  Eastern   foolishness  are  over.     S.  would  and  did  go 

(258) 


MANUFACTORY    OF    ORNAMENTS.  259 


out,  in  spite  of  the  heavy-falling  rain ;  and  in  about  two 
hours  returned  with  an  Arab  dress,  the  trophies  of  his 
stroll — though  he  was  half  frozen  and  entirely  wet,  quite 
natural  results  of  such  temerity.  We  enjoyed  ourselves 
very  much,  in  want  of  something  better  to  do,  at  the 
ludicrous  appearance  each  of  us  presented,  as,  one  by  one, 
we  habited  ourselves  in  S.'s  purchase — "just  to  see  how 
the  thing  looked." 

After  dinner,  at  his  suggestion,  we  accompanied  Mr. 
Theil  to  a  German  establishment  in  the  city,  where  orna- 
ments of  olive-wood  are  made  and  kept  for  sale.  We 
ventured  out  under  promise  from  our  worthy  landlord, 
who  assured  us  the  place  was  very  near.  However,  we 
got  "soaking  wet" — to  use  a  Virginia  expression — and 
are  inclined  henceforth  to  doubt  Mr.  Theil's  word,  so  far 
as  rain  is  concerned,  or  to  interpret  his  expressions  differ- 
ently from  what  he  evidently  does. 

We  were  surprised  to  see  such  thrift  and  enterprise  as 
was  exhibited  in  the  shop  to  which  he  led  us.  When  we 
reached  the  place,  they  were  engaged  in  turning  out,  very 
rapidly  and  very  neatly,  various  ornaments,  and  seemed  to 
have  their  hands  full  of  work.  How  they  dispose  of  their 
stock,  I  cannot  imagine — I  am  sure  the  domestic  demand  is 
not  equal  to  the  supply.  I  bought  several  little  keepsakes, 
which  I  will  prize  highly,  provided  I  can  get  them  safely 
to  America,  though  many  dangers  are  to  be  encountered, 
and  many  miles  of  sea  and  land  to  traverse,  ere  that  far 
coast  will  be  reached.  God  send,  I  may  safely  reach 
that  soil ! 

After  supper  to-night,  we  had  a  general  fuss,  in  regard 


ESSLINGER   S    S  l'"i;  v. 


to  photographs;  same  wanted  one  thing,  and  some 
another.  Ami  now  there  is  a  Bchism  in  camp,  and  the 
"house  i>  divided  against  itself."  The  photograph  to 
which  I  refer,  was  to  be  taken  l>\  Mr.  Deniss,  of  our  entire 
party  in  the  Garden  of  Qeilisemane.  For  some  reason, 
known  only  to  them,  our  German  la-others  have  declined 
entering  into  the  arrangement.  We  three  Americans, 
however,  have  concluded  to  have  the  picture  taken  at  all 
events.  It  being  now  definitely  "fixed"  to  this  effect, 
once  again,  -order  reigns  in  Warsaw." 

Las1  nighl  we  listened  attentively  to  a  thrilling  stor^ 
told  ns  by  Esslinger.  We  were  much  interested  in  the 
recital.  Be  spoke  to  such  a  late  hour,  that  I  was  unable 
to  write  further  in  my  Journal.  As  the  narrative  ma} 
not  be  unacceptable  to  those  whom  chance  might  lead  to 
peruse  these  pages,  1  give  it  here,  as  nearly  as  1  can  recol- 
lect, in  the  narrator's  own  words. 

THE    BLACK    BORSEMAN    OF    THE   JUNGFRAU. 

There  is  no  person  (commenced  the  narrator),  who  has 
ever  travelled  on  the  Continent  of  P]urope,  and  has  not 
climbed  or  seen,  or  at  least  heard  or  read  of  the  glorious 
and  stupendous  mountain  of  the  Jungfrau,  which  rears 
its  craggy  peaks  in  in}-  far  off  native  Switzerland.  Its 
massive  bulk  can  be  seen  for  miles  away,  and  the  far  off 
faintly  perceptible  fleece  of  cloud,  floating  high  in  air,  does 
not  reach  it-  summit.  With  the  dizzy  ridges,  yawning 
rifts,  and  quiet  frozen  glens  of  the  mountain,  are  connected 
many  tales  and  legends  of  wild  and  startling  import — 
Legends  which  from  their  very  wildness,  gain  your  atten- 


esslinger's   story.  261 


tion,  as  your  hardy  peasant-guide  striding  on  before  you, 
staff  in  hand,  pours  their  full  tide  into  your  listening  ear. 
The  following  dark  tale,  which  I  will  relate  you,  was  told 
me  some  years  ago,  as  resting,  prior  to  attempting  to  scale 
the  rough  sides  of  the  Jungfrau,  I  loitered  at  its  base.  I 
will  give  the  story  as  it  was  told  me  by  my  worthy 
guide,  Jean  Goujon,  of  whom  some  of  you  may  have 
heard. 

It  was  a  Christmas  night,  now  twenty  years  ago,  said 
Jean,  that,  in  the  little  hamlet,  clustered  on  the  south 
side  of  the  Jungfrau,  was  gathered  a  gay  party  of  bold  and 
hardy  rustics,  in  one  of  the  peaked-roof  cottages  of  the 
village.  The  night  was  intensely  bitter,  the  wind  sang 
dolefully  down  the  long  rocky  glens  of  the  overshadowing 
mountain,  and  crept  moaningly  among  the  closely  huddled 
houses  of  the  hamlet.  The  snow  fell  in  large  unbroken 
flakes,  and  whirled  its  legions  of  fleecy  cohorts  along  the 
almost  wholly  deserted  streets.  So  thick  was  the  blinding 
mass  of  falling  snow,  that  it  was  only  occasionally  that 
the  lights  in  the  cottages  struggled  through  the  s:loom, 
and  marked  the  spot  as  the  abode  of  men. 

In  spite  of  the  gloom,  however,  which  gave  such  a 
funereal,  forbidding  aspect  to  out-door  objects,  it  was  a 
right  merry  company  that  gathered  in  the  snug  cottage 
of  Conrad  Richelderfer.  It  was  the  auspicious  (or  in- 
auspicious  (?)  )  eve  long  looked  forward  to  with  much 
anxiety  by  two  loving  hearts.  For  four  years,  now, 
had  Ileinrich  Edelmann  loved  and  been  beloved  by 
Jeannette  Richelderfer.  Nothing  as  yet  had  come 
between  them  and  happiness ; — this  night  was  to  witness 


2G2  ESS!  [NG]  R'S     STORT. 


them  man  and  wife— a  relationship  filling  their  cup  <>I 
ji>\  ami  gladness  i«>  the  ven  brim.  Groomsmen  and 
bridesmaids,  rustic  sons  and  daughters  of  the  Canton, 
-to.>d  r<;id\  to  fulfil  their  appointed  pleasing  parts,  while 
happiness  and  good-humor  beamed  on  ever}  face.  The 
hour  was  waxing  late  and  some  of  the  company  began 
to  show  unmistakeable  signs  of  impatience  at  the  retarda- 
tion of  tin-  ceremony.  It  was  soon  whispered  among  the 
crowd  thai  the  bridegroom  was  not  present;  and  none 
knew  of  his  whereabouts.  This  \\;i-  a  strange  procedure; 
so  thought  the  good  folks  assembled,  and  so  tiny 
spoke,  'ldie  tare  of  the  young  maiden,  the  bride,  grew 
ashy  pale  at  the  news,  and  Tear  took  undisputed  posses- 
sion of  her  countenance. 

At  Length  the  father  of  the  bridegroom,  who  was  pre- 
sent, exclaimed: — :'Good  folks,  there  is  some  mystery 
about  this  affair;  my  son  is  no  laggard;  and  would  not 
lie.  especially,  in  such  a  case  as  this.  Rest  assured  that 
-Mine  ..ther  power  than  Ins  own  keeps  him  from  the  mar- 
riage feast.  Is  there  anyone  present  who  can  give  tiding 
of  my  boy  Heinrich?"  But  no  one  could  say.  Some  sug- 
gested one  thing,  some  another.  A  strange,  a  fearful  feel- 
ing had  taken  possession  of  all  presold,  and  all  knew,  as 
by  instinct,  that  some  evil  of  a  darksome  nature  was  im- 
pending.  At  length  a  youth,  who  seemed  as  if  recalling 
a  circumstance,  Stepped  suddenly  forth,  and  said,  "1  saw 
Heinrich  just  before  the  evening  meal.  His  yager  was 
slung  across  his  shoulder,  and  Im-  said  he  went  to  hunt 
the  chamois,  as  he  wished  a  fresh  skin  wherewith  to  cover 


esslinger's   story.  263 


the  shoulders  of  his  fair  Jeannette.  He  bent  his  stride 
up  the  Jungfrau,  toward  the  Black  Crag." 

"  The  Black  Crag  !  and  at  that  time  of  day  !"  exclaimed 
a  dozen  at  once  in  a  horrified  breath,  while  a  look  of 
doubled  fear  settled  on  the  face  of  each,  and  Jeannette 
sank  swooning  away. 

"  Why,  the  lad  is  crazy !"  cried  Conrad  Richelderfer. 
"  Does  he  not  know  that  the  Black  Horseman  infests  the 
dingles  of  the  Black  Crag,  and  that  to-night  is  his  yearly 
time  for  riding  and  for — DEATH  ?"  The  last  words  the 
peasant  uttered  in  a  low,  whispered,  half-frightened  tone, 
and  each  one  muttered — "  for  DEATH  !" 

The  Black  Crag  is  well  known  to  all  who  visit  Swit- 
zerland, and  feast  their  vision  on  the  glorious  panorama 
of  that  country's  wild  scenery,  in  which  the  Jungfrau 
forms  an  object  of  visionary  interest.  Every  guide  im- 
presses particularly  on  you  the  glorious  views  to  be  had 
from  the  high  crest  of  the  Crag,  and  fills  your  ears  with 
tales  of  the  marvellous  concerning  witches  and  spectral 
hunters,  devils  and  bogles,  which  inhabit  the  gorges 
beneath  the  rock.  Among  other  legends  of  the  place  is 
the  one  to  which  reference  has  just  been  made — that  of 
the  "  Black  Horseman."  This  object  (it  is  not  a  human 
being,  but  a  supernatural  creature,  they  say),  is  ever, 
when  abroad,  an  angel  of  death.  He  is  seen  only  once 
throughout  the  long  year,  and  woe  be  unto  the  single  tra- 
veller— in  such  a  certainty  he  never  returns  to  tell  of  his 
sad  fate.  The  solemn  report  of  the  Black  Horseman's 
carbine  carries  death  with  its  echo — none  can  escape  the 
bullet  of  that  demon  rifle.     Many  strange   legends  the 


i  ssi  inger's   BTOB  V. 

peasants  tell  of  this  bogle,  ;is  it  wanders  on  a  coal-black 
charger  which  apparently  flies  through  the  thick  woods 
and  jungles — for  no  trace  of  its  foot-track  is  ever  to  be 
found.  No  peasant  dares  go  into  the  mountain  on  Christ- 
mas night.  Then  it  would  be  certain  death  to  be  in  the 
vicinity  <>f  the  Black  Crag.  It  is  Baid  that  <>n  one  dark 
Christmas  night  some  peasants,  who  were  crossing  the 
slope  ot'  tlic  mountain,  saw  distinctly  this  fearful  horse- 
man. Their  description  of  him,  as  he  came  thundering 
by  on  his  midnight  charger,  which  snorted  smoke  and 
flame,  while  the  long  elfin  locks  of  the  rider  floated  hack 
wildly  in  the  wind,  and  his  eyes  gleamed  straight  ahead, 
was  terrifying  even  to  listen  to.  Such  was  the  Black 
Crag,  and  Mich  the  Black  Horseman — names  which  struck 
terror  to  the  lately  joyous  and  merry  crowd  gathered  at 
Conrad  Richelderfer's  cottage  on  this  Christmas  night. 

"I  am  quite  sure  now."  spoke  again  the  missing  lad's 
father,  "that  something  has  befallen  my  Heinrich;  some- 
thing awful  has  happened.  1  am  convinced.  But,"  he 
continued,  noticing  the  effect  of  his  ill-boding  words  on 
the  fair  Jeanette,  "  it  will  be  all  right  by-and-bye.  I  say, 
lads,  Horseman  or  no  Horseman,  we  must  go  in  search 
of  Heinrich  !" 

"Good  father,"  spoke  a  young  man  in  reply,  "we  are 
willing  to  lace  any  danger  for  Heinrich,  on  this  or  on  any 
other  night;  but  how  could  we  find  our  way  in  the  face 
of  such  a  storm  as  this?  None  of  us  would  ever  return; 
and.  in  our  attempts  to  find  poor  Heinrich,  all  of  us  would 
fall  victims  to  the  cold  which  freezes  everything  without, 


esslinger's   story.  265 


or  to  the  Black  Horseman  who  scours  even  now  the  dark 
forest,  and  speeds  over  the  frozen  glens  of  the  mountain." 

"  Aye  !  think  again,  good  father,"  spoke  another  hardy 
fellow  of  the  party ;  "  if  Heinrich  is  dead,  then  we  could 
do  him  no  good ;  and  if  alive,  mind  me,  the  lad  is  smart 
enough,  and  active  enough,  to  care  well  for  himself."  A 
murmur  of  approbation  followed. 

"Well,  then,"  replied  the  old  man,  "I  ask  ye  not  to 
go ;  but  I  will  just  take  my  trusty  yager,  and  go  in  search 
of  my  son  all  alone."  Just  then,  the  crunching  sound  of 
footsteps  striding  hastily  along  the  snow-clad  streets,  fell 
on  their  ears ;  in  another  instant  the  door  was  thrown 
violently  open,  and  a  man  precipitated  himself  right  into 
the  assembly.  A  deathly  pallor  overspread  his  face,  and 
he  shook  in  every  limb  with  badly-concealed  fear. 

"  Heard  ye  not  the  carbine,  folks  ?  The  Black  Horse- 
man is  abroad ! — his  yager  echoed  but  a  moment  since, 
up  yonder  by  the  Black  Crag  !"  The  man  spoke  in  quick, 
hurried  tones.  Every  one  quailed  with  fright ;  even  old 
Schwartz,  the  father  of  the  missing  jungling,  drew  back 
as  he  heard  the  fearful  words,  and  seemed  to  pause  in  his 
daring  undertaking. 

"  And  how  know  ye,"  he  asked,  anxiously,  "  that  it  was 
the  yager  of  the  Black  Horseman  ?  There  are  others  who 
own  yagers  in  these  parts." 

"  A.y"  returned  the  man,  "  but  few,  who  choose  on 
such  nights  as  this,  to  hunt  the  chamois!  Besides,  a 
moment  before  the  dread  carbine  sounded  on  the  air,  I 
plainly  heard  the  crack  of  a  common  earthly  yager — it 
was  nothing  like  that  of  the  Horseman's  yager.     Ah  !   I 


esslinger's  stort 


too  well    know  the   unearthly   report    of  that  carbine!" 

The  man  shuddered,  and  drew  still  nearer  the  crowd,  as 

he    indulged     ill    recollections.       ••  And."    he     continued. 

"just  before  that  loud  sound  echoed  in  the  hamlet,  1 
heard  the  rushing  noise,  as  n\'  many  mountain  blasts: 
yet,  friends,  1  felt  hot  air  streaming  over  me,  and  a  bright 
light  flashed  for  a  moment  in  the  jungles  of  the  Jungfrau  ! 
1  tell  you,  folks,  the  Black  Horseman  is  fairly  abroad  to- 
night, and  1  stir  not  hence  till  full  broad  day.  His  deeds 
are  not  done;  it  was  just  this  way  he  gave  us  his  terrible 
signs,  when,  on  that  dreaded  Christmas  night,  long  time 
ago,   Carl   and    Hermann    Kriimlich   went  to   the    Black 

■ 

Crag,  in  defiance  of  the  Horseman,  and — never  returned!" 

All  kept  silent.  Poor  Jeannette  had  dropped  into  a 
chair,  and  now  wailed  her  anxiety  in  pent-up  and  heart- 
deep  sobs.  Still  the  absent  lover — the  missing  Ileinrich — 
came  not. 

A  low  murmuring  sound  was  indistinctly  heard,  rising 
over  the  gentle  wailing  of  the  night-wind,  along  the 
snow-enshrouded  streets,  and  creeping  with  death-like 
sadness  into  every  crevice  and  chink  of  Richelderfer's 
cottage. 

"  Thais  //"  Black  Horseman's  moan  /"  whispered  old 
Schwartz,  while  he  scarcely  seemed  to  breathe. 

"  'Tie  so !"  whispered  hack  the  man. 

Suddenly  a  rushing,  whirring  sound  echoed  through 
the  air;  a  light,  as  that  of  noonday,  streamed  through 
the  only  window  of  the  cottage,  and  the  sharp,  ringing 
report  of  that  unearthly  carbine  ran-  again  and  again 
through  the    apartment.     A  glance    at   the  window,  to 


esslinger's   story.  26' 


which  every  eye  was  directed,  showed,  standing  motion- 
less as  a  statue,  without  bridle,  martingale,  or  saddle,  the 
gigantic  steed  of  the  dreaded  Horseman !  A  cry  of 
anguish  from  one  of  the  girls  called  attention  in  that 
direction.  There  sat  poor  Jeannette,  the  cold  glaze  of 
death  in  her  eyes,  while  the  purple  tide,  welling  freely 
over  the  robe  of  spotless  white,  told  the  accuracy  of  the 
demon's  bullet.  A  single  exclamation  of  horror  echoed 
through  the  room,  when  all  at  once  the  apartment  was 
rendered  dark  by  a  huge  shadow,  and  in  stalked  with 
giant  stride  the  dreaded  Black  Horseman  !  A  strange, 
unearthly  object  it  was  that  stood  before  them.  His 
head — a  bare  skull  with  the  grinning  teeth  rattling  in 
the  white  jaw-bones  touched  the  very  ceiling.  To  this 
bleachened  skull,  long,  jagged,  scattering  locks  streamed 
down  in  disconnected  masses,  and  eyes  of  supernatural 
lustre  rolled  wildly  in  their  bony  sockets.  The  heavy  car- 
bine, smoking  from  the  recent  discharge,  hung  across  his 
back.  His  huge  skeleton  feet,  encased  in  goat-hide 
sandals,  gave  no  sound  as  he  walked.  There  was  no  time 
for  fear  or  for  speech  :  the  white  jaw-bones  opened,  and  a 
cavernous,  sepulchral  voice  echoed  through  the  room — 
"  Whoever  weds  on  Christmas  night,  and  pays  me  homage 
by  wandering  through  my  glens  of  solitude,  him  I  must 
honor — honor  with — death  I  I  met  him,  ye  mourners,  in 
my  Black  Crag  home.  He  raised  his  puny  rifle,  and 
essayed  to  take  the  life  of  him  who  is  doomed  to  live  for 
ever !  His  own  boyish  aim  laid  him  low — for  his  smart 
bullet  discharged  my  carbine  !  He  lies  high  on  the  Black 
Crag,  away  up  yonder  in   the  black  night,  in  my  own 


•_  *8  ESSLIN  G  ER'S    STOB  V. 

haunted  home.     The  chilling  snow   has   nearly  covered 

him  up,  and  his  Mood  is  cold.  I  have  come  for  his 
bride — it  is  my  rule  She  lias  consented  to  conic — there 
Bhe  lies,  waiting  for  these  arms  to  hear  her  away.  Come, 
sweet  bride  of  death,  your  lover  awaits  you,  and  I  am  his 
messenger!"  The  strange  being  strode  forward  and 
grasped  the  fair  form  of  the  dead  girl. 

"Cleave  him  down,  lads !  cleave  him  down !"  shouted 
old  Schwartz,  recovering  from  his  stupor,  and  snatching 
his  hunting-knife  from  its  sheath  ;  and  Conrad  Richel- 
derfer  drove  his  heavy  Made  with  the  fury  of  a  fiend  full 
at  the  figure.  The  keen  blade  met  nothing  in  its  descent 
save  the  yielding  air;  it  passed  through  the  phantom,  but 
it  left  no  mark.  A  light,  scornful  laugh  was  all  the  reply. 
Schwartz  hastily  snatched  a  yager  near  by,  and,  aiming 
fair  at  the  demon's  heart,  pulled  trigger.  The  ball  sped 
by,  the  smoke  cleared  away,  and  the  Horseman  smiled 
that  same  scornful  smile.  A  moment  more,  with  the 
dead  girl  in  his  arm-,  while  her  fair  hair  floated  wildly 
back,  he  Bprang  on  his  gigantic  charger  and  dashed  away 
through  the  gloom  toward  the  mountain.  In  an  instant 
he  was  gone!  A  moment  more  and  a  lurid  glare  blazed 
high  up  on  the  cliffs,  and  in  thai  glare  was  plainly  seen 
the  Black  Crag,  and  on  it.  the  unburied  corpse  of  young 
Beinrich,  half  hid  beneath  the  falling  snow;  while,  lower 
down,  the  demon  steed,  with  his  infernal  rider  bearing 
away  the  dead  girl,  dashed  onward  and  upward  at  a  fly- 
in-  pace.  The  light  disappeared,  and  a  scornful  laugh 
Bwepl  faintly  to  the  ears  of  the  horror-stricken  rustics. 
eral  years  afterwards,  old  Schwartz,  Conrad  Richel- 


esslinger's   story.  269 


derfer,  and  two  others,  in  wandering  through  the  jungles 
of  the  Jungfrau,  came  suddenly  unawares  upon  the  Black 
Crag.  What  was  their  amazement  and  horror  when  they 
espied  two  ghastly,  grinning  skeletons  lying  side  by  side 
on  the  highest  ridge  of  the  Crag  ! 

Such  was  the  wild  tale  told  me  by  my  guide,  Jean 
Gougon,  who  concluded  by  saying,  '  I,  myself,  have  seen 
the  Black  Horseman  twice,  but  fortunately  I  was  not 
alone.  There  to  the  right,  yonder  is  Richelderfer's  old 
cottage,  and  before  the  sun  sets  to-day,  I  will  show  you 
the  Black  Crag  and  the  view  we  obtain  there.' " 

Such  was  Esslinger's  story,  told  with  good  effect  by 
that  prince  of  good  fellows. 

But  while  I  have  been  writing,  the  hours  have  flown 
rapidly  away,  and  my  friends,  one  by  one,  have  retired 
for  the  night.  I  must  shut  up  my  ink-stand  and  wipe  my 
pen,  for  my  own  eyelids  are  heavy.  To-morrow  we  have 
determined,  come  rain  or  shine,  that  we  will  set  out  for 
the  Dead  Sea,  Jericho,  and  Jordan.  Ibrahim  is  to  awaken 
us  early  in  the  morning,  with  everything  ready  for  the 
expedition. 

I  expect  to-night,  as  was  my  fortune  last  night,  to  have 
sweet  dreams  of  the  weird  "  Horseman,"  and  the  two 
decaying  corpses  found  by  old  Schwartz  Edelmann  and 
Conrad  Richelderfer  on  the  mysterious,  haunted  "  Black 
Crag." 

In  my  tent,  amid  the  ruins  of  Jericho,  10  o'clock,  p.  M. 
Thursday,  March  15,  1859. 
And  am  I  indeed  in  the  Valley  of  Jordan — in  sight  of 


•J  ,'n  \    \  l.l.i' V    o\-    JORDA  N. 


the  Mount  of  Temptation,  the  Dead  Sea.  and  "Jordan's 
stormy  banks t"  True,  indeed;  and  at  this  moment,  on 
this  calm,  moonlight  night,  1  am  resting  in  my  little 
tent,  which  is  Bpread  amid  the  ruins  of  that  ancient  city, 
which  fell  before  the  din  of  rams'  horns,  Mown  seven 
times  around  its  walls!      Singular  indeed  : 

Sometimes — very  often,  indeed,  since  1  have  been  on 
this  eastern  tour — 1  have  wandered  afar  from  my  com- 
panions, and.  in  the  solitude  of  my  own  communings,  I 
have  asked  myself,  "Is  it  indeed  true,  that  1  stand  amid 
these  far  away  scenes,  made  sacred  by  divine  and  by 
prophetic  deeds.'"  I  find  it,  yes,  blessedly  true;  and 
here,  on  this  lovely  star  and  moonlight  night,  I  rest  near 
thy  hanks,  oh!  sacred  Jordan!  As  I  sit  here  musingly. 
I  recall  everything  which  I  ever  read  or  heard  concerning 
this  stream;  and.  indeed.  I  can  scarcely  realize,  that  I 
resl  in  one  of  the  Loveliest  vales  under  heaven.  So  it  is, 
and  impressed  as  I  now  am.  1  am  compelled  to  murmur, 
more  humbly  than  ever.  Blessed  be  Thy  works,  and 
extended  Thy  kingdom,  oh!  God,  for  ever  ! 

This  morning,  in  Jerusalem,  to  our  joyful  surprise  the 
sun  came  out.  bright  and  beautiful.  We  have  had  so 
much  rain  and  snow  lately,  that  we  had  determined  to 
commence  our  excursion  to-day,  fair  or  cloudy,  thankful 
for  the  privilege  of  doing  so  at  any  time  and  under  any 
circumstances.  As  if  in  furtherance  of  our  wishes,  He 
e  us  a  bright  -un  to  drive  away  dampness  from 
earth,  and  to  bring  joy  to  our  hearts.  At  an  early  hour, 
i    rahim,   <>wr  good   and   noble-hearted  young  dragoman, 


LEAVE     JERUSALEM. 


271 


made   his   morning  salaam,    to  us  in  bed — signified    his 
extreme  pleasure  at  seeing  us — declared  good  weather, 
and  hinted  his   readiness,  nay,  anxiety,  to  leave  at   as 
early  a  moment  as  possible.     We  were  glad  to  hear  such 
tidings,  and   straightway  commenced   arranging  matters 
for  our  Dead  Sea  and  Jordan  jaunt.     After  reloading  our 
pistols,  which  had  for  a  time  reposed  in  quiet  dignity  at 
the  Hospice,  and  making  several  other  preparations,  our 
party,  amounting  to  seven  or  eight — Ibrahim  and  suite 
included — filed   slowly  out   at   St.    Stephen's   Gate,    and 
wound  its  way  again  over  the  beautiful  brow  of  Mount 
Olivet.   On  the  further  side  of  the  sacred  mountain  we  were 
joined  by  our  guarantee,  in  the  shape  of  a  sheikh  (pronounced 
shake),  of  the  Bedaween.     This  fellow  is  a  splendid  wild- 
looking  specimen  of  the  genuine  Beddwy,  and  glories  in 
long  black  hair,  fiery  eyes,  sharp  features,  and  brilliant 
pearly  teeth.     In  going  to  the  Jordan  we  are  compelled 
to  pass  several  fierce  tribes  of  the  desert  Arabs,  and  a 
sheikh  is  an  all-necessary  accompaniment.     But  to  this  I 
have  referred  more  fully  in  a  recent  day's  Journal.     Our 
sheikh  went  by  the  euphonious  name  of  Sahlimah ;   his 
autograph  I  will  here  endeavor  to  copy.     He  was  much 
pleased  when  I  requested  it,  and  seemed  proud  that  he 
could  write  : — 

This  being  translated  means   "  Sahlimah,   Sheikh   for 
Jordan."     Sahlimah  was  a  good-humoured  fellow — a  fine 


273  a  i  N-r. i.-n  \  r  i>. 

Bhot,  considering  his  clumsy  brass-banded  barrel — and  a 
most  exquisite  horseman.  1  certainl}  think  his  horse  the 
handsomest  animal  I  ever  beheld.     Sahlimah,  with  all  his 

_ 1  qualities,  however,  partook  of  the  nature  of  the  rest 

of  his  people,  and  thought  perhaps  more  of  bahJcahiahf 
than  of  anything  else,  and  continually  hinted  slyly  at  it. 
or  -poke  right  out  concerning  it.  He  boasted  much  and 
often  of  his  thousands  of  goats  and  camels — yel  it  seemed 
to  me,  that  our  homely  adage  had  a  happy  application. 
even  in  this  tar  Judean  clime,  ••the  more  one  gets,  the 
more  he  wants." 

We  passed  through  Bethany  again,  but  all  was  silence 
ami  desolation.  We  lingered  a  lew  moments  to  get  some 
brackish  water,  and  then  proceeded  leisurely  onward. 
We  finally  descended  quite  abruptly,  into  the  valley 
between  the  Moab  Mountains,  and  near  the  fountain  Ain 
el-Baud,  of  the  Arabs,  at  the  head  of  the  gorge.  We  here 
took  a  wry  good  though  hasty  de/euner  d  la  fowrchette. 
How  that  expression  recalls  things  of  the  dead  past! 

The  fountain  of  Ain-el-Haud  has  been  thought  by  some 
to  be  the  "  Fountain  of  the  Prophets,"  or  even  the  old  m- 
Sheme8h.  I  think,  however,  a  substantial  basis  for  such 
an  opinion  is  altogether  wanting. 

Having  finished  our  breakfast,  we  once  again  formed 
in  marching  order,  and  pushed  ahead.  On  our  way  we 
passed  through  a  wild,  desolate  ravine,  said  to  be  the 
!«•  of  the  Good  Samaritan  parable.  Judging  from 
the  s.-litiidc'  and  barrenness  of  the  locality,  deeds  of 
charity  would  not  go  a-begging  now-a-days.     It  was  in 


WADY-EL-KELT.  273 


this  same  gorge,  if  I  mistake  not,  that  Sir  Walter  Scott 
laid  the  scenes  of  Sir  Kenneth's  marvellous  adventures. 

After  several  hours  of  tedious  travel,  we  came  to  an 
old  and  fast-decaying  ruin.  .  I  do  not  know  what  this  for- 
merly was,  but  I  do  know  it  is  situated  in  the  bleakest 
and  wildest  portion  of  our  road.  This  is  said  to  be  the 
most  dangerous  part  of  the  route,  and  near  the  spot  in 
question  Sir  Frederick  Henniker  came  near  falling  a  vic- 
tim to  Arab  assassination  in  1820.  The  old  ruin  may 
have  been,  in  palmier  days,  the  "  wayside  inn"  of  Scrip- 
tures. Certain  I  am,  however,  that  I  would  not  like  to 
frequent  the  place  unless  I  was  sure  that  a  strong  escort 
was  in  hailing  distance. 

As  we  continued  our  way,  we  came  to  the  magnificent 
gorge — the  brook,  or  Wady-el-Kelt — and  here  I  witnessed 
some  of  the  finest,  grandest,  and  most  awe-inspiring 
scenery  I  ever  beheld.  Far  down  the  steep  rocky,  almost 
perpendicular  opposing  cliffs,  which  are  so  close  together 
that  a  stone  can  be  tossed  readily  from  one  to  the  other, 
we  see  a  small  brilliant  belt  of  limpid  water.  Its  tiny 
falls  and  fairy  cascades,  however,  could  not  be  heard  at 
our  position. 

Speaking  of  this  gorge,  a  favorite  writer  remarks, 
"  The  sides  are  almost  sheer  precipices  of  naked  rock 
occasionally  pierced  by  grottos,  apparently  inaccessible  to 
anything  except  the  eagles  that  now  hover  round  them  ; 
and  yet  history  tells  us  that  all  these  uncomfortable  dens 
were  once  occupied  by  hermits.  One  is  shown  where  an 
anchorite  is  said  to  have  lived,  the  cravings  of  whose  cas- 
tigated body  were  satisfied  with  four  raisins  a  day." 

18 


-74  THE    BROOK    CH  IK  I  Til. 


Tin-;  voady,  or  brook,  expands  into  the  beautiful  plain 
oi  Jordan,  and  l»\  some  baa  been  rightly  supposed,  in  my 
opinion,  to  be  the  brook  "Cherith"  where  Elijah  was  fed 
by  the  ravens.  The  Bible  historj  of  the  affair  is  plain — 
"Get  thee  hence,  and  turn  thee  eastward,  and  hide 
thyself  by  the  brook  Cherith,  thai  is  before  Jordan." 
(]  Bangs  xvii.  3).  This  must  be  the  Cherith  of  Scripture, 
I  think,  discarding  other  reasons ;  for,  had  Elijah  turned 
"eastward?  on  the  farther  or  eastern  side  of  Jordan,  he 
would  have  gone  a  long  way  bo  find  ••Cherith;"  in  other 
words,  there  is  no  such  gorge  or  wady  existing,  which  is 

'/•  enough  the  river  in  question,  to  warrant  the  expression 
"before  Jordan."  In  fact,  1  think  the  whole  dispute 
turns  on  the  interpretation  of  the  word  "before."  I  am 
under  the  impression,  it  means  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  oppositt  and  near  to.  Moreover,  the  "  brook"  is  well 
fitted  for  purposes  of  concealment — Elijah's  motive  in  going 
thither.  The  Arabs  have  a  tradition  of  their  own,  that 
priests  and  hermits  of  old  had  been  fed  by  ravens  at  this 
place  :  showing  the  existence  at  all  events  of  a  legend  as 
connected  with  the  ravens.  Some  writers,  in  a  far-fetched 
manner,  explain  that  what  is  meant  by  raven  is  wild  Aral)  (!) 
that  the  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Arabic  wrords  for  raven  are 
identical  in  some  respects — and  that,  in  the  latter  language, 

sides  meaning  a  bird  or  raven,  it  likewise  signifies  a 
I)>  -'  rt  A  rah;  they  say,  in  fine,  it  was  by  these  wild  fellows 
that  Elijah  was  fed,  and  not  miraculously  by  ravens.  I 
am  not  a  sufficient  lexicographer  to  settle  this  dispute  of 
words — but  marob,  in  Arabic,  means  crow,  and  also  robber 
.  ,r   wild  man.     For  me,  I  do  not  believe  in   the  forced 


FOUNTAIN     OF    ELISHA.  275 


interpretation  of  Scripture;  and  if  my  knowledge  of  Latin 
and  Greek  bears  me  out,  there  is  no  similarity  in  the 
words  meaning  raven,  in  the  separate  languages. 

That  the  Wady-Kelt  is  Cherith,  I  think  there  exists  no 
plausible  reason  to  doubt,  though  Dr.  Stewart  and  others 
argue  learnedly  to  the  contrary. 

A  few  moments  more  and  our  visions  were  gladdened 
with  the  sacred  sights  and  the  glorious  beauties  gathered 
in  the  wide-spreading  plain  of  Jordan.  Imagine  my  emo- 
tions when  the  Mount  up  which  our  Saviour  was  led  "  to 
be  tempted," — the  Dead  Sea, — the  ruins  of  ancient  and 
modern  Jericho,  and  the  stream  of  ever  hallowed  Jordan, 
were  pointed  out  to  my  eager  gaze !  I  cannot  describe 
what  I  felt. 

Before  proceeding  to  camping-ground  we  continued  up 
the  valley,  through  a  rich  and  fertile  section  of  land, 
covered  with  shrubs,  and  visited  the  Fountain  of  Elisha, 
or  "  Ain  es-Sultan"  of  the  Arabs.  This  fountain  bursts 
right  from  the  base  of  a  rough  wall,  or  from  the  foot  of  a 
mound  near  it.  The  water  is  quite  sweet,  very  warm, 
and  earthy,  as  if  it  were  from  a  stagnant  pool.  This, 
then,  is  the  fountain  (and  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  it, 
Porter  says),  whose  waters,  which  were  "naught,"  were 
singularly  changed  by  Elisha,  by  throwing  of  salt  from  a 
"  new  cruse"  therein.  And  this  fountain  stood  in  the 
old  Jericho  of  the  prophets,  and  when  to-night  we  drank 
of  that  sacred  water,  we  stood  of  course  on  the  site  and 
amid  the  ruins  of  that  ancient  city.  Near  the  Fountain 
of  Elisha,  there  is  another,  the  name  of  which  I  have  for- 
gotten.    It  helps  to  irrigate  that  portion  of  the  valley 


_".  6  rn  i:    C  a  m  ri  n  (,-<;  ROC  N  D. 


lying  near  it.  Not  tar  from  the  fountain  is  the  site  of  the 
ancient  Chateau  of  Doch.  In  it.  it  is  said,  Simon  Mac- 
cabffius  was  -lain  1>\   Ptolemy,  his  Bon. 

We  then  turned  our  horses1  heads  away,  and  took  our 

wa\  to  the  spot  which  lhrahini  had  chosen  as  our  tent- 
ground.  ( >n  reaching  the  place  we  found  .Moses  ( [brahim's 
assistant)  on  the  ground,  the  tents  pitched,  and  dinner  in 
fair  progress.  Our  old  friend  Hassan,  our  good  Moukary, 
was  also  there,  with  tethering  lines  for  the  horses;  and 

some  tWO  dozen   wild    Bedaween.  hall-clad  and    lieive-look- 

ing,  stood  around  the  crackling  brush  fire,  Leaning  on  their 
long  guns.  They  made  a  picturesque  addition  to  the 
ic.  Among  these  fellows  were  our  so-called  escort, 
some  five  or  six  Bedaween,  who  had  met  us  when  half 
way.  and  had  accompanied  us  only  a  mile  or  two  on  our 
journey.      A  precious  escort,  indeed! 

lhrahini  has  given  us  the  best  dinner  I  have  eaten  since 
we  left  .Malta.  S.  shot  some  birds,  mostly  pigeons  (re- 
sembling the  American  tarm  pigeon),  and  in  so  doing, 
surprised  our  worthy  Sahliniah  very  much  with  the  ease 
he  knocked  over  birds  on  the  wing,  with  his  English 
double-barrel.  I  am  quite  confident  that  the  sheikh  would 
willingly  part  with  one-half  of  his  imaginary  or  real  flock 
of  goats  to  possess  the  fowling-piece. 

We  have  just  given  a  high  bakhshish  for  a  Bedaween 
chant,  a  wild,  barbarous,  unearthly  monotone,  accompa- 
nied with  regular  (dapping  of  hands,  and  contorted  motions 
of  body,  which,  in  sell-defence,  and  at  a  sacrifice  of  a  still 
largt  r  bakhshish,  we  were  compelled  to  break  off.  I  slept 
awhile,  a  minute  ago,  and  now  here  I  am  in  my  little  tent 


RUINS    OF    JERICHO.  277 


with  S.  We  occupy  a  nice  little  awning  together,  a  little 
too  near  the  Arabs,  perhaps,  who  keep  up  a  low  kind  of 
mumbling  song,  while  they  watch  around  the  fire.  But 
it  is  good  enough  for  us  poor,  miserable  creatures,"  and 
beggars,  as  we  really  are.  We  have  eaten  salt  with  our 
guards,  and  Ibrahim  says  wTe  can  fully  repose  in  their 
confidence.  The  other  four  of  our  party  occupy  a  larger 
tent,  while  Ibrahim,  Moses,  and  the  cook  fill  a  small 
pocket-handkerchief-affair  stretched  out  there,  against  a 
rock. 

Strange  indeed  are  my  thoughts,  to-night,  as  I  sit  here 
amid  the  rains  of  what  was,  long  centuries  since,  the 
"  City  of  the  Palms."  My  position  is  so  novel  that, 
while  I  close  my  e}Tes  for  a  time,  and  let  my  thoughts 
wander  back  to  my  own  republican  America,  I  can 
scarcely  persuade  myself  that  I  am  now  thousands  of 
miles  away,  and  that  my  feet,  at  this  moment,  press  the 
sod  of  the  "  Wilderness  of  Judea."  My  long  stay  in 
Paris — my  extensive  tour  on  the  Continent — the  beauties 
of  the  Piedmontese  plains — the  rugged  grandeur  of  the 
mountain  scenery  of  Savoy — the  lordly  Rhine — the  classic 
charm  of  old  Pome,  its  dead  Coliseum,  and  its  gay  Pin- 
cian  Hill — all  seem  thrown  confusedly  together  to  make 
one  gay,  chaotic,  fantastic  dream,  and  nothing  more ! 
This — my  presence  in  this  land — in  this  valley,  is  the 
grand  feature,  the  incomprehensible  achievement  of  my 
life! 

There  have  existed  two  Jerichos.  "  From  the  '  Jeru- 
salem Itinerary  we  learn  that  the  Jericho  of  the  4th  cen- 
tury was  situated  at  the  base  of  the  mountain  range,  one 


2  .'s  UISTORl     0]     JERICHO. 


mile  and  a  balf  (Roman)  from  the  fountain  of  Elisha, 
and  that  the  more  ancient  city  bad  stood  !»\  the  fountain 
itself.  This  corresponds  exactly  with  what  we  bave 
already  Been.  The  ruins  on  the  banks  of  \\  ady-Kelt  mark 
the  site  of  the  Jericho  of  Herod,  and  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment; while  those  here  around  the  fountain  are  the  only 
remnants  of  the  Jericho  of  the  Prophets."  The  Btirring 
historj  of  Jericho  max  be  found  in  the  following  excellent 
sketch  : — 

••  Ascending  the  mound  over  the  fountain,  and  Beating 
ourselves  on  one  of  the  old  stones,  we  are  prepared  to 
glance  at  Jericho's  eventful  history,  and  recall  its  thrilling 
tciations.  We  have  before  us  the  great  plains  on 
which  the  weary  Israelites  looked  down,  alter  their  wil- 
derness journey,  from  the  brow  of  yonder  mountain  ridge 
away  in  the  east  (Numbers  xxxiii.  47,  48).  We  have  at 
our  feet  the  only  remains  of  the  eity  to  which  Joshua 
sent  the  spies  from  the  plains  of  Moab,  on  the  other  wide 
of  the  .Jordan  ;  and  there  behind  ns  is  the  mountain 
where,  on  the  advice  of  Rahab,  thej  hid  themselves  three 
days  to  escape  pursuit  (Josh.  ii.).  Around  this  city,  too. 
after  the  spies  returned,  the  Israelites  marched  mysto 
riously  during  seven  days;  and  on  the  seventh  day,  after 
tic  seventh  circuit,  'the  priests  blew  with  the  trumpets 
....  And  tic  people  shouted  with  a  greal  shout,'  and 
•tic  wall  fell  down  Hat,  so  that  the  people  went  up  into 
the  city  .  .  .  and  took  the  city'  (Josh.  \i.).  Jericho'was 
then  wholly  destroyed,  and  a  singular  curse  pronounced 
on  whoever  should  rebuild  it — 'Cursed  be  the  man  before 
the   Lord   that    riseth   up  and    buildeth    this  city  Jericho; 


HISTORY    OF    JERICHO.  279 


he  shall  lay  the  foundation  thereof  in  his  first-born ;  and 
in  his  youngest  son  shall  he  set  up  the  gates  of  it'  (Id.  vi. 
26).  And  after  an  interval  of  some  five  centuries  it  was 
rebuilt  and  the  curse  executed.  '  In  his  (Ahab's)  days 
did  Hiel  the  Bethelite  build  Jericho ;  he  laid  the  founda- 
tion thereof  in  Abiram,  his  first-born,  and  set  up  the  gates 
thereof  in  his  youngest  son,  Segub'  (1  Kings  xvi.  34).  A 
school  of  prophets  gathered  round  the  spot  almost  imme- 
diately. Elijah  and  Elisha  came  down  to  it  from 
Bethel — an  easy  day's  journey — by  a  path  through  these 
wild  mountains  on  the  north-west.  From  Jericho  the 
two  went  on,  over  the  plain,  to  the  banks  of  the  Jordan ; 
the  '  sons  of  the  prophets'  followed  them  in  the  distance, 
and  at  length  took  their  stand  '  in  sight  afar  off' — pro- 
bably on  one  of  the  upper  terraces  of  the  right  bank — to 
see  the  departure  of  their  great  master.  And  yonder  on 
the  plain  beyond  the  river,  '  Elijah  went  up  by  a  whirl- 
wind into  heaven.'  But  his  mantle  fell  on  Elisha,  who, 
on  his  return,  divided  the  waters  of  the  river,  healed  the 
fountain  that  gushes  out  from  the  base  of  the  mound  at 
our  feet,  and  went  up  the  mountain  pass  to  Bethel, 
where,  in  a  forest,  now  gone,  lurked  the  i  two  she-bears' 
that '  tare  the  forty  and  two'  wicked  children  (2  Kings  ii). 
"  After  the  captivity,  the  inhabitants  of  Jericho  re- 
turned from  Babylon ;  but  little  is  known  of  the  city 
until  the  time  when  its  palm  groves  and  balsam  gardens 
were  given  by  Antony  to  Cleopatra.  From  her,  Herod 
the  Great  bought  them,  and  made  this  one  of  his  royal 
cities,  and  adorned  it  with  a  hippodrome  and  many 
stately  buildings ;  and  here,  too,  that  monster  of  iniquity 


280  BISTORT    OF    JERICHO. 


died.     The  Bite  of  this  new   city  was.  as  we  have  seen. 

one   and   a  halt'  miles   t*>  the   soutli.  on    (lie  banks  of  the 

Kelt.  It  was  new  Jericho  our  Lord  visited  in  In*  way  to 
Jerusalem,  lodging  with  Zacchaeus,  who  had  climbed  the 
unore  tire  to  see  Him;  and  healing  the  poor  blind 
man  (Luke  wiii.  35,  13,  and  \ix.  L— 10).  Its  subsequent 
histor)  is  soon  told.  It  became  the  head  of  a  toparchy 
under  the  Romans,  but  was  deserted  soon  after  the 
Mohammedan  Conquest." 

Well,  well,  well!  How  I  have  &pwn  out  my  Journal. 
1  must  unbuckle  my  pistol  now,  and  to  bed!  To-morrow 
we  visit  .Ionian  and  the  Dead  Sea;  and  are  also  shown, 
gratis,  the  traditional  tomb  of  Moses,  though  I  believe, 

ording  to  Holy  Writ,  "No  man  knoweth  of  his  sepul- 
chre  to  this  day." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


Prussian  Hospice,  Jerusalem. 
Friday,  March  11th,  1859. 


} 

^6jyHIS  morning  we  arose  very  early,  and  were  repaid 
with  the  gorgeous  panorama  of  a  sunrise  over  the 
hills  of  Palestine.  The  scene  was  thrice  lovely, 
as  we  watched  the  gradual  approach  of  the  God  of 
Day,  whose  effulgent  rays  could  be  seen  at  first  peopling 
the  far-off  hill-tops  with  tiny  purple  rays,  and  then  blaz- 
ing brightly  over  the  summits  of  the  mountains  near  us, 
flooding  the  whole  valley  in  golden  splendor.  The  morn- 
ing breeze  was  crisp — what  some  term  bracing — and  as 
muffled  in  our  thick  coats  we  viewed  the  waking  scene, 
situated  as  we  were,  having  safely  and  pleasantly  slum- 
bered through  the  night,  nothing  scarcely  could  have 
added  to  our  comfort  or  thrilled  our  souls  with  more 
soothing  and  profitable  reflections.  A  light  hazy  fog, 
resembling  the  fleece  of  a  noonday  sky,  hung  over  the 
valley,  and  half  veiling,  half  unfolding,  lent  a  charm  to 
the  scene.  Gray  wreathing  specks  of  cloud,  marshalled 
in  flying  squadrons,  dashed  along  the  far-off  expanse  of 
blue.  The  Bedaween  stood  leaning  on  their  long  guns, 
intently  watching  us  as  we  viewed  and  drank  in  the 
scene ;  their  picturesque  attitude  lent  to  the  picture  an 


281 


282  R  1  D  1      To\\  A  R  l>     Til  E     JOR  D  A  V 


interesting  feature.  Bu1  booii  the  long  shadows  of  the 
mountains  one  by  one  disappeared  from  the  valley,  and 
the  sun.  now  highly  risen,  shone  down  with  its  usual 
brilliancy. 

Before  the  dew  had  fallen  from  their  carollas,  I  gathered 
some  pretty  flowers,  and  placed  them  safely  in  my  satchel, 
to  keep  them  as  souvenirs  of  a  holy  place  lor  my  absent 
friends  in  transatlantic  America.  We  partook  of  a  hasty 
though  first-rate  breakfast,  which  again  elevated  Ibrahim's 
mis',,,,  in  our  opinion.  Immediately  alter  our  meal,  the 
canij)  was  in  confusion,  and  we  were  Boon  in  the  saddle. 
Moses  and  the  cook  arranged  the  tents,  cooking  imple- 
ment-. &c,  hade  us  adieu,  and  left  lor  Jerusalem;  we 
needed  their  services  no  longer.  As  we  left  the  camp, 
and,  in  the  exhilaration  of  the  moment,  rode  on  swiftly 
through  the  dwarf  shrub-trees,  over  the  level  plain,  the 
valle\  indeed  seemed  most  lovely,  and  I  fain  would  have 
Lingered,  enraptured  with  the  sight;  but  Ibrahim  urged 
us  on.  asserting  that  to  accomplish  our  day's  work,  and 
reach  Jerusalem  before  the  Muzzim-cry  to  evening  prayers, 
would  tax  our  activity  to  the  utmost.  Before  the  day 
ended,  we  had  ample  cause  to  testify  to  the  truth  of  his 
predictions. 

(  hi  we  rode  toward  the  Jordan — and  it  was  a  long  ride. 
It  is  singularly  deceptive  this  river — or  this  plain — rather 
boili  combined.  It  was  from  our  camp  last  night,  appa- 
rently about  ha  minuted  walk,  yet  we  were  two  hours 
and  more  getting  there  this  morning,  and  our  gait  was 
not  slow.  In  passing  through  the  underbrush,  S.  shot 
nil   fine   -.iiue   birds,  among  them  a  partridge  of  the 


LEBANON.  283 


largest  size  I  ever  saw.  The  birds  were  very  tame,  and 
S.  was  compelled  to  throw  a  stone  at  them  to  frighten 
them,  as  he  wished  to  shoot  them  on  the  wing.  We  saw 
several  storks  also,  and  some  birds  of  a  species  unknown 
to  me.  Just  before  we  reached  the  plain  directly  in  front 
of  the  Jordan,  one  of  our  afore-mentioned  Beddwy  escort 
bantered  me  for  a  race — he  on  foot,  embarrassed  with  his 
long  abba  and  cumbersome  firelock,  and  I  securely 
mounted  on  a  quick-footed  native  steed.  I  laughed  at 
him  ;  but  to  appease  his  evident  mortification,  I  consented 
to  the  race.  I  tapped  my  horse,  and  he  bounded  off  at 
full  speed.  What  was  my  surprise  to  see  my  Arab  com- 
petitor come  leaping  over  shrubs  and  gulches  with  the 
agility  of  a  deer,  and  when  the  goal  on  which  we  had 
fixed  was  reached,  he  was  more  than  three  lengths  ahead  ! 
He  did  not  boast,  however,  but  covered  my  chagrin  as 
best  he  could. 

As  we  were  nearing  the  river,  Ibrahim  suddenly  ex- 
claimed "  Liban  !  Liban  !"  (Lebanon  !  Lebanon  !)  Look- 
ing in  the  direction  he  indicated,  we  saw  the  faint  blue 
outline  of  that  snow-capped  range,  away  up  on  the  Syrian 
coast. 

Quite  an  amusing  incident  here  occurred.  A  German- 
Jew  in  company,  having  occasion  for  some  reason  to  carry 
Sahlimah's  fowling-piece,  accidentally  lost  the  ramrod. 
At  this  the  sheikh,  quite  unexpectedly  to  all  of  us,  waxed 
exceeding  wroth,  and  insisted  on  immediate  indemnifica- 
tion. m  He  sputtered  out  a  great  deal  of  Arabic,  to  which 
our  German  friend,  frightened  half  out  of  his  wits,  could 
only  reply,   "Nichts  versteht   Arabika !"      We   assured 


28  I  liOUN  T    OF    Tl  M  I'T  \  TION, 


Sahlimah  thai  he  should  be  well  bakhshished  for  his  loss; 
but  he  took  it  badly,  and  his  sullen  conduct  was  very 
observable.  We  noticed  ii  with  some  uneasiness,  though 
our  good  Ibrahim  assured  as  thai  the  sign  of  treachery  on 
the  Beddwy's  part  would  be  his  death-warrant,  and 
ss  irted  most  positively  thai  he  would  deliver  us  sale  and 
sound  that  nighl  at  the  Prussian  Hospice.  He  then  said 
something  in  quite  an  authoritative  manner  to  the 
Bheik,  with  no  other  effect  than  a  scowl  of  anger  and  of 
perfect  independence  from  the  Beddwy.  More  than  one 
of  us  then  glanced  at  the  caps  on  our  pistols.  Hut  the 
storm  blew  away. 

From  one  point  in  the  valley,  the  Mount  of  Tempta- 
tion (or  the  Quarantinia — so  called  because  Christ  here 
fasted  forty,  of  quaranta,  in  Italian,  days)  stood  forth, 
with  its  curved  outline,  in  bold  relief,  slightly  deviating 
in  its  position  from  the  other  wild  cliffs  that  frown  down 
on  the  Valley  of  Jericho.  We  could  see  a  little  chapel 
away  up  on  the  summit  of  the  mountain,  and  Ibrahim 
pointed  out  to  us  the  holes  and  caves  in  the  rock,  faintly 
seen  in  the  distance,  which  were  formerly  occupied  by 
hermits.  As  Porter  says,  it  does  indeed  seem — so  accurate 
is  the  description  given — that  these  magnificent  lines, 
descriptive  of  this  scenery,  were  penned  by  Milton  on  the 
spot : — 

"It  was  a  mountain  ait  whose  verdant  feet 
A  spacious  plain,  outstretched  in  circuit  wide, 
mi  :  from  his  side  two  rivers  flowed, 
Tin'  one  winding,  the  other  straight  ;  ami  left  between 
Fair  champain  with  less  rivers  interveined 
Then  meetii  _   joined  their  tribute  to  the  sea: 


BANKS    OF     THE     JORDAN.  285 


Fertile  of  corn  the  glebe,  of  oil  and  wine ; 

With  herds  the  pastures  thronged,  with  flocks  the  hills  ; 

Huge  cities  and  high-towered,  that  well  might  seem 

The  seats  of  mightiest  monarchs,  and  so  large 

The  prospect  was,  that  here  and  there  was  room 

For  barren  desert,  fouutainless  and  dry. 

To  this  high  mountain  top,  the  Tempter  brought 

Our  Saviour,  and  new  train  of  words  began." 

This  description  is  true  to  the  letter,  and  yet,  if  I  mis- 
take not,  Milton  never  was  in  Palestine. 

At  last,  however,  we  stood  on  the  banks  of  the  Jordan, 
and  once  again,  I  must  say,  dreamingly  strange  were  my 
emotions,  as  I  gazed  on  the  rushing  torrent.  I  thought 
of  the  time  when  the  humble  Nazarene  was  baptized  of 
John  in  the  same  waters,  and  when  the  dove  descended. 
and  the  Godly  voice  was  heard. 

In  fording  a  small  swamp  in  order  to  reach  the  real 
bank  of  the  stream,  the  three  Americans,  including  myself, 
came  near  meeting  with  an  accident.  The  bed  of  the 
pond  was  soft  and  slimy,  and  our  horses  mired  to  their 
haunches ;  they  were  stout  and  fully  equal  to  the  task, 
however,  and  after  two  or  three  desperate  lunges,  we 
gained  the  shore.  We  were  here  again  much  amused  at 
our  Jewish  friend,  whom  I  have  mentioned  in  connection 
with  Sahlimah's  old  flint-lock.  The  poor  fellow,  no  doubt, 
burdened,  like  many  more  of  us,  with  a  heavy  weight  of 
sin,  was  determined  to  wash  it  out  in  this,  the  waters 
of  sacred  Jordan.  And  yet  it  seems,  he  did  not — judging 
from  his  actions — believe  in  the  purity  of  the  water  as 
instrumental  in  removing  transgressions,  for  I  was  quite 
surprised,  on  turning  around,  to  behold  him  on  his  hands 


286  THE    JORDAN. 

and  knees,  diligently  engaged  in  rooting  (if  the  expression 
be  Allowed)   his  face  under  the  water  in  the  slimy  mud 

at  ihi  />"//")/).  A.s  soon  as  he  had  finished  his  muddy 
ablutions  to  his  satisfaction,  1  asked  him  the  occasion  of 
such  strange  procedure.     He  replied,  with  all  gravity — 

•■  Now  that  1  am  here,  by  this  sin-removing  stream,  I 
w  ished  to  wash  away,  at  once,  all  of  my  backsliding  errors, 
misfortunes,  and  bad  luck  ;  so  I  thought,  in  view  of  the 
magnitude  and  quantity  of  sin  to  my  account,  it  would 
require  the  quintessence  of  Jordan  to  remove  them  !"  1 
did  not  stop  to  argue  with  him  what  constituted  the 
quintessence  of  the  torrent:  certain  I  am,  however,  that 
tlie  misfortunes  which  had  attended  him  through  life,  did 
not  desert  him  after  his  hath  in  Jordan — for,  in  climbing  the 
dizzy  mountain  ridges,  on  our  return  to  Jerusalem  that 
afternoon,  the  fellow's  horse  tumbled  over  a  ledge,  and 
came  near  foiling  on  his  rider.  I  rallied  him  concerning 
his  mishap,  when  he  good-humoredly  replied,  "  Oh !  the 
water  has  not  had  time  to  act, — to  reach  my  system  /"  If  he 
was  content.  I  was.  so  the  "quintessence*'  subject  dropped. 
The  Jordan  (lows  in  a  perfect  torrent,  through  a  deep 
depression  or  fosse  of  about  four  hundred  yards  average 
breadth,  though  the  Jordan  itself,  at  its  widest  portion. 
viewed  by  our  party,  was  only  thirty  yards  across,  and 
generally  not  more  than  fifteen.  The  abrupt  manner  of 
tie-  -helving  of  this  ravine,  gives  to  the  river  an  appear- 
ance  of  having  previously  hail  several  banks,  of  different 
distances  apart.  We  find  near  the  banks  of  the  river,  an 
almost  impenetrable  thicket  of  weeds;  while  on  the  imme- 
diate edge  of  the  stream, "  tamarisks,  oleanders,  and  willows 


THE    JORDAN.  287 


abound."  A  well  known  and  deservedly  popular  writer 
has  likened  the  Jordan  to  the  "yellow  sanded  Tiber."  In 
my  eyes  it  resembles  it  no  more  than  it  does  any  other 
stream  of  a  like  size.  Moreover,  the  Jordan  is  a  dark,  rapid, 
hissing  torrent;  its  actual  banks  are  of  scarcely  no  height, 
and  its  general  course  is  nearly  straight.  The  Tiber  is 
lighter  in  color,  is  a  sluggish  stream  comparatively,  and 
has  high  bold  banks  including  its  waters,  which  are 
very  serpentine  in  their  course.  The  true  point  of  resem- 
blance, I  take  it,  is,  one  is  a  river,  and  so  is  the  other. 

The  exact  spot  where  the  Israelites  crossed  is  not 
known,  though  much  has  been  written  at  length,  by 
learned  men,  on  the  subject.  We  cannot  base  any  argu- 
ment, as  has  been  well  said,  on  the  present  condition  of 
the  river,  or  of  its  banks — the  channel  and  banks  are 
liable  to  many  changes  which  can  be  wrought  by  the  hand 
of  time.  This  thing  is  certain,  however,  according  to 
Joshua  (iii.  16)  that  they  crossed  Jordan  "  right  against 
Jericho"  and  where  we  stood,  therefore,  could  not  have 
been  far  from  the  place.  In  regard  to  this  point,  Dr. 
Stuart  thinks  the  water  was  cut  off  for  the  passage  of  the 
army  for  twenty  miles.  "  This,  I  consider  a  real  valuable 
discovery"  (if  discovery  it  is)  "  as  it  proves  that  the  Jordan 
was  dried  up  for  the  space  of  twenty  miles,  so  that 
thousands  of  Israel  could  pass  over  in  a  very  short  space 
of  time."  Dr.  Robinson,  agreeing  with  early  traditions, 
places  the  point  of  crossing  five  miles  farther  up  the  river, 
and  near  where  famous  Gilgal  of  old  stood.  Here  the 
children  of  Israel  encamped  first. 

Gilgal   is   a   noted   place  of  itself;  here  Gehazi   was 


2S8  Til  E    JORDAN. 


punished — here  the  people  of  Judah  received  David  from 
exile — here  the  Tabernacle  was  once  set  up — here  Syrian 
Naanian  was  cured,  &C,  &C.  Near  this  place,  as  in  other 
portions  <«t*  the  valley,  once  grew  large  quantities  of  the 

sugar-cane,  which  some  writers  think  constituted  the 
••wild  honey"  of  John  the  Baptist. 

It  was  quite  an  interesting  feature  of  our  visit,  at  least 
to  me,  to  draw  niv  Bible  from  my  pocket,  and  then 
beneath  the  willow-  that  wave  over  the  wildly  flowing 
Jordan,  read  the  third  and  fourth  chapters  of  Joshua, 
in  which  such  a  thrilling  and  succinct  account  of  the 
••  passage"  is  given.  It  was  suggested  to  me,  and 
unknown  to  my  companions,  I  repaired  for  a  few  moments 
to  a  small  jungle,  and  there  read  that  thrilling  Bible  narra- 
te e.  with  an  interest  never  before  felt. 

This  spot  where  we  now  stood  was  indeed  Holy  Land, 
rendered  so  by  some  of  the  most  convincing  proofs  of 
God's  power  and  presence.  It  was  here  that  Elijah 
passed  over  the  dry  bed  of  the  river,  and  was  caught  up 
to  heaven,  in  the  plain  beyond — it  was  here  that  Elisha, 
the  prophet's  servant,  on  whom  fell  his  master's  robe, 
also  passed  over  the  channel  of  the  stream  which  ceased 
flowing,  when  he  cried  out,  ''Where  is  the  Lord  God  of 
Elijah?"  (2  Kings  ii.)  Thus  Jordan  was  here  passed  on 
dry  land  three  times;  yet  the  crowning  (-rail — the  one 
which  has  for  ever  consecrated  the  river,  in  the  sight  of 
all  Christian  people,  was  the  baptism  of  the  Son  of  llim — 
of  Him.  ••  whose  name  shall  he  Immanuel,"  of  Jesus  Christ, 
the  God-born  Saviour  of  our  sinning  race.  It  was  here 
that  lie  descended   into  the   water,  and  was  baptized  of 


BATHING     IN     THE     JORDAN.  289 


John.  It  was  here  the  voice  divine,  coming  from  the 
clouds,  proclaimed  Jesus  to  be  "my  beloved  Son,  in 
whom  I  am  well  pleased." 

Our  feelings  cannot  then  be  imagined — for  I  am 
persuaded  from  the  language  of  Scripture,  such  as  "  leading 
up"  into  "  the  wilderness,"  &c,  all  referring  to  geographical 
features — that  the  place  of  the  Saviour's  baptism  was 
not  far  from  the  spot  whereon  we  stood  to-day. 

The  whole  surrounding  plain  is  throughout  the  year, 
with  one  exception,  nothing  but  a  vast  abode  of  desolation 
and  silence ;  and  nothing  can  be  heard  near  the  Jordan, 
save  its  own  rapidly-moving  waters.  The  event  to  which 
I  allude,  is  the  annual  pilgrimage — observed  by  the  Christ- 
ian Churches  of  Palestine  (in  Jerusalem  particularly) — 
to  the  Jordan,  for  the  purpose  of  bathing.  This  is  at  Eas- 
ter ;  drums  and  horns  enliven  the  scene ;  soldiers  guard 
the  bathers,  and  the  Turkish  governor  of  Jerusalem  is  at 
the  head  of  the  procession.  The  bathers  plunge  in,  in  all 
attires ;  some  entirely  nude,  others  (and  mostly)  in  white 
robes,  carried  for  the  purpose.  The  whole  river  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  the  surrounding  plain,  present  one  mass 
of  confused  humanity.  They  bathe  throughout  the  day, 
and  depart  with  the  greatest  stillness  in  the  night.  Mr. 
Stanley  gives  a  very  graphic  description  of  the  whole 
ceremony  ;   I  take  his  closing  extract  : — 

"  Once  more  they  may  be  seen.  At  the  dead  of  night, 
the  drum  again  awakes  them  for  their  homeward  march. 
The  torches  again  go  before ;  behind  follows  the  vast  mul- 
titude, mounted,  passing  in  profound  silence  over  the  silent 
plain — so  silent,  that  but  for  the  tinkling  of  the  drum,  its 
19 


290  i  'I  I     i"   v  "    SEA. 


departure  would  scarcely  be  perceptible.  The  troops  sta^ 
on  the  ground  to  the  end,  to  guard  the  rear;  and  when 
the  last  roll  of  the  drum  announces  thai  the  lasl  soldier 
is  gone,  tlic  whole  plain  returns  again  to  its  perfect  soli- 
tude." 

After  gathering  mementoes  of  various  kinds — chiefly, 
however,  of  pebbles,  I  lowers,  and  canes — and  baking  a  last, 
lingering  look  at  Jordan,  we  once  again  mounted  our  faith- 
ful Bteeds,  and  slowly  took  our  wa\  toward  the  Dead  Sea, 
which  lav  silently  and  lonely  before  us,  in  full  sight.  Ah, 
how  warm  was  that  fide!  1  have  not  as  yet  (hall'  past 
ten.  i'.  m..  in  Jerusalem)  recovered  from  it.  This  valley  is 
a  perfect  oven — and  this  in  March  !  What  must  it  he  in 
Augusl  '. 

The  plain  of  the  Dead  Sea  is  nearly  seventeen  hundred 
feet  below  the  Mediterranean;  and  the  hot  air  comes 
through  the  gorge  as  from  the  fiery  mouth  of  a  furnace. 
On  the  tall  mountain  cliffs  which  border  on  this  heated 
plain,  we  experienced  winter  weather;  while  in  the  valley, 
it  was  far  worse  than  July  heat !  The  change  was  great,  and 
we  suffered  very  much,  fearing  sunstroke  at  every  moment. 
But  we  lived  through  all.  After  a  most  exhausting  ride 
of  one  hour's  duration,  we  suddenly  drew  up  on  the  mar- 
gin of  that  Bolemn  and  desolate-looking  sheet.  I  cannot 
adequately  describe  the  Dead  Sea.  and  the  absence  of  every- 
thing like  life  near  it.  Not  a  sparrow  chirps  forth  his 
note,  nol  an  insect  hums  away  its  brief  existence,  not  a 
flower  can  be  seen  rearing  its  head  near  this  place  of 
desolation.  A  stillness  like  unto  the  deepest  sleep,  or 
rather  unto  death  itself)  p  rvades  everything;  not  even 


THE     DEAD     SEA.  291 


a  ripple  rolls  its  gentle  swell  over  the  loamy  shore.  It 
is  a  wild,  mysterious,  silent  picture  of  solitude,  the 
most  undisputed,  and  the  very  greatest  that  ever  reigned 
anywhere  under  the  sun. 

The  Dead  Sea,  on  many  accounts,  is  the  most  interest- 
ing sheet  of  water  in  the  world.  I  regret  that  I  cannot 
enter  into  this  subject  at  length,  or  as  fully  as  I  would 
wish.  My  remarks  will  necessarily  be  short.  There 
must  have  been  a  lake  here,  or  something  resembling  the 
present  Dead  Sea,  as  far  back  as  four  thousand  years  ago, 
when  Lot  looked  down  from  Bethel,  and  "  beheld  all  the 
plain  of  Jordan,  and  it  was  well  watered  everywhere,  be- 
fore the  Lord  destroyed  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  even  as 
the  garden  of  the  Lord,  like  the  land  of  Egypt,  as  thou 
comest  unto  Zoar."  Thus  we  read  in  Genesis  xiii.  10. 
This  and  other  allusions  lead  us  to  infer  that  there  existed 
at  that  time  a  lake  in  this  same  place,  of  course  much 
smaller  than  the  present  Dead  Sea,  inasmuch  as  there 
was  much  fertile  land  left  here.  It  was  here  that  the 
"  cities  of  the  plain"  did  much  toward  the  progress  of 
civilization.  Sodom,  Gomorrah,  Admah,  &c,  were  here 
built ;  and  here  Phoenician  enterprise  had  its  first  seat. 

The  physical  history  of  the  Dead  Sea  is  as  interesting 
as  the  historical  notices,  but  I  have  not  time  to  enter  into 
any  detail.  Lieut.  Lynch  and  his  party  have  done  much 
toward  giving  a  thorough  survey  of  the  Dead  Sea ;  and 
Dr.  Anderson,  connected  with  that  expedition,  has  given 
the  most  complete  report  extant,  relative  to  the  geolo- 
gical structure  of  the  seashores,  and  of  the  mountain 
ranges  bordering  on  it.     From  his  report  we  learn  that 


292  III  E     DEAD    SKA. 


much  limestone,  some  nitrous  encrustations,  some  puw 
sulphur,  considerable  quantities  of  post-tertiary  lava, 
pumice-stone,  and  volcanic  slag  are  t<>  be  found.  The 
Dead  Sea  was  called  by  the  ancients  Asphaltites  Lake,  and 
ii  i^  known  among  the  Arabs  as  BaAr  /,/'/,  or  «Sfea  0/  £otf. 

By-the-by,  we  made  inquiries  for  the  "pillar  of  salt," 
once  Lot's  unfortunate  wife ;  but  [brahim  knew  nothing 
of  its  locality,  ami  was  Bufficientl)  honest  to  confess  it. 
Lieut.  Lynch  refers  to  it;  and  Josephus  remarks  that  it 
was  standing,  ami  that  he  had  seen  it,  at  the  time  of  writ- 
ing his  "Antiquities."  This  was  A.D.  93.  He  is  sup- 
ported  by  Clement  of  Rome,  who  was  contemporary  with 
the  Jewish  historian.  De  Saulcy,  however,  the  French 
explorer,  does  not  helieve  in  its  present  existence  at  all, 
and  Laughs  at  the  ••silly  idea."  as  he  expresses  it. 

The  length  of  this  curious  sheet  is  forty  miles;  its  ex- 
treme breadth  eight  and  a  half,  or  more  generally  five 
miles.  The  northern  section  is  much  deeper;  some 
places  are  remarkable  for  their  depth,  while  others  are 
equally  shallow.  I  might  remark  here  that  Strabo  gives 
us  the  circumference  of  the  sea  as  one  hundred  and  four- 
teen miles;  breadth,  twenty-eight;  Josephus  states  it  to 
be  sixty-six  miles  in  length,  and  seventeen  and  a  quarter 
broad:  Lynch,  forty-six  in  length,  and  nine  and  a  half 
broad.  J  have  adopted  the  estimate  of  Dr.  Porter;  I 
think  it  nearer  correct  than  the  others. 

No  living  creatures,  it  is  said,  inhabit  these  still  myste- 
rious waters;  and.  like  the  tradition  of  the  classic 
Avernus,  it  is  asserted  no  bird  can  flyover  its  sheet  of 
"dreamy  desolation"  without  meeting  with  certain  death. 


THE     DEAD     SEA.  293 


The  saline  particles  in  the  Dead  Sea  amount  to  26 1  per 
cent.,  and  of  course  has.  a  specific  gravity  one-fifth  greater 
than  the  ocean,  the  salt  of  which  is  only  4  per  cent.  A 
human  body  cannot  sink  in  it ;  we  well  tested  this  great 
buoyancy  of  the  waters.  The  most  acrid,  bitter,  nauseous 
taste  I  ever  experienced  was  when  I,  for  experiment's 
sake,  took  in  a  mouthful  of  the  sea-water  and  accidentally 
swallowed  it.  I  feel  the  effects  now.  One  of  our  party 
complained  considerably  of  an  intolerable  itching  of  the 
skin  after  the  bath. 

The  fact  of  a  bituminous  substance  having  been  noticed 
along  the  shores,  and  very  often  on  the  surface  of  the 
Dead  Sea,  has  caused  some  to  think  that  it  was  b}^  the 
ignition  of  this  inflammable  material  that  the  guilty  cities 
were  fired.  Others  even  think  that  the  houses  of  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah  were  made  of  asphaltum,  and  by  this 
means  the  fire  was  kept  vigorously  alive  and  in  a  rapid 
and  fearful  march.  The  undoubted  appearance  of  bitu- 
men, and  the  remarkable  saline  impregnation  noticed 
above,  are  remarkable  features  indeed  of  the  Dead  Sea. 
It  was  known  that  the  sea  was  salt  as  far  back  as  148 
years  b.  c. — granting,  of  course,  Genesis  to  have  been 
written  by  Moses  between  the  time  of  the  departure  of 
the  children  of  Israel,  and  the  time  of  the  defeat  of  the 
Amorites  by  Moses. 

In  regard  to  the  locality  of  the  destroyed  Sodom,  it 
may  be  wrell,  in  passing,  to  mention  that  M.  de  Saulcy 
has  discovered  its  veritable  remains,  and  on  a  part  of  the 
Dead  Sea  coast,  some  distance  from  where  we  were  to-day. 
He  indulged  Ids  fancy,  however,  and  that  was  all.     The 


29  1  Til  1      DE  \  !>    SEA. 


must    knowing   writers    and    Learned    explorers   of    the 

llolv   Land    give    it  as  their  opinion  that    the  wicked    nt\ 

or  its  ruin  Lies   buried   beneath  the  still  waters  of  this 

sad  sea. 

1  think  with  inanv  others  concerning  the  formation  of 
the  Dead  Sea — thai  it  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a 
grand  geological  phenomenon,  and  that  the  enormous 
gorge,  in  a  pari  of  which  rest-  the  .-till  sea,  has  been  the 
gradual  work  of  ages.  1  believe  the  same  valley  existed 
here  4000  years  ago — 1  mean  as  respects  physical  fea- 
ture:  and   has  undergone    in  that    space   the  changes  of 

nature.  The  whole  plain  of  Jericho  measures  about 
seventy  square  miles.  It  is  interesting  to  know  that  not 
far  from  the  spot  we  stood  to-day,  is  Idumea,  or  Edom, 
where  dwelt  the  hairy  Esau. 

Bow  different  now  is  the  dull,  desolate  appearance  of 
this  deep  gorge,  in  which  lies  wrapt,  as  it  were,  in  never- 
waking  slumber,  the  Dead  Sea.  from  the  view  presented 
in  time  long  agone  by  the  fertile  fields  and  rich  pastures 
which  then  -raced  the  land  of  the  enterprising  Phoeni- 
cians;  for  none  deny  that  this  was   the  first   seat  of  that 

ly  people,  so  skilled  in  all  that  makes  a  nation  excel- 
lent. This  now  barren  spot  was,  undoubtedly,  4000  years 
ago,  tin-  very  warden  of  the  world — its  Eden  in  all  its 
bness.      Alas,  now  ! 

A  line  summary  of  the  Dead  Sea  may  be  had  in  the 
following  -iir.de  paragraph  : — 

•■The  Dead  Sea  is.  whether  considered  physically  or 
historically,  tic  mosl  remarkable  sheet  of  water  in  the 
world.      It    lies   in    the    lowest    pari    of   that   deep    ravine 


THE     DEAD     SEA.  295 


which  extends  from  the  base  of  Hermon  to  the  Gulf  of 
'Akabah.  A  section  of  the  ravine,  more  than  140  miles 
in  length,  is  beloiv  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  the  depression 
of  the  surface  of  the  Dead  Sea  amounts  to  no  less  than 
1312  feet.  A  single  glance  at  the  features  of  this  region 
is  sufficient  to  show  that  the  cavity  of  the  Dead  Sea  was 
coeval  in  its  conformation  with  the  Jordan  Valley  on  the 
north,  and  the  'Arabah  on  the  south.  The  breadth  of 
the  whole  valley  is  pretty  uniform,  only  contracting  a 
little  to  the  south  of  the  Lake  of  Tiberias,  and  expanding 
somewhat  at  Jericho;  the  mountains  on  each  side  thus 
run  in  nearly  parallel  lines  from  Hermon  to  'Akabah. 
The  Dead  Sea,  therefore,  occupies  a  section  of  the  great 
valley  which  only  differs  from  the  rest  in  being  deeper 
and  covered  with  water.  On  the  east  and  west  it  is  shut 
in  by  lofty  cliffs  of  bare  white  or  gray  limestone,  dipping 
in  many  places  into  its  bosom  without  leaving  even  a 
footpath  along  the  shore.  Its  length  is  forty  miles,  and 
its  greatest  breadth,  eight  and  a  half,  narrowing  to  five 
at  the  northern  extremity.  Near  its  south-east  angle, 
opposite  the  ravine  of  Kerak,  is  a  broad,  low  promontory, 
with  a  long  point  or  cape  stretching  more  than  five  miles 
northward  up  the  centre  of  the  sea.  And  it  is  worthy 
of  special  notice  that  the  whole  section  of  the  sea  north 
of  this  promontory  is  of  great  depth,  varying  from  forty 
to  two  hundred  and  eighteen  fathoms;  and  in  some  places 
the  soundings  show  upwards  of  one  hundred  and  eighteen 
fathoms  within  a  few  yards  of  the  eastern  cliffs.  The 
southern  section,  on  the  other  hand,   is  quite   shallow ; 


M  B    OF     MOSES. 


never  more  than  from  two  to  three  fathoms,  and  generally 
onh  about  as  1 1 1 ; 1 1 1 \  feet." 

r  lingering  a  long  time,  despite  the  sweltering  rays 

that    showered    down    upon    us.    we    filled    our   sacks    with 

pebbles,  as  mementoes,  and  slowly  took  our  way  from  the 

shores  of  this  desolate  Bea.  Our  route  toward  the  "CH3 
of  the  Great  King"  was  different  from  the  one  we  pursued 
yesterday  in  going  to  Jordan;  it  led  directly  over  the 
mountains.  And.  ah  1  what'  a  tedious  body-and-soul- 
racking  ride  it  was!  It  was  indeed  far  worse  than  the 
ride  from  Ramleh,  on  the  Plain  of  Sharon,  to  Jerusalem. 
Op  and  down  we  went  all  the  time.  .More  than  once,  as 
Bkirting  the  summit  of  some  lofty  crag,  on  a  narrow  ^oat- 
path.  I  feared  my  horse  would  .stumble  and  send  me 
headlong  down  the  frowning  precipice  into  the  fearful 
chasm  which  yawned  around  us.  But  we  surmounted 
all  difficulties  safely,  and  had  every  reason  to  be  thankful. 
We  stopped  only  once,  and  that  at  a  Muslim  Wely,  called 
Neby  Musa  (Tomb  of  Moses),  on  the  summit  of  a  rough, 
flinty,  dreary-looking  mountain.  The  followers  of  Ma- 
homet believe  that  Moses  is  here  buried;  although  it  is 
far  from  being  a  "  valley" — and  many  pilgrims,  despite 
the  tedious  journey,  and  the  wild  stony  way,  often  repair 
thither  to  pay  their  orisons  at  the  shrine  of  the  prophet — 
the  Israelitish  Lawgiver.  It  is  a  bleak,  barren  place,  and 
the  winds  of  winter  must  whistle  a  lonesome  ditty  around 
those  cold  gray  walls.  All  Christians  are  here  debarred 
entrance,  and  bo  we  dined  in  the  gloomy  shadow  of  the 
(  onvent.  We  saw  a  few  hooded  heads  peep  at  us. 
over  the  ramparts,  a-  we   came   up   at   a    sweeping  canter 


MAR     SABA.  297 


a  I' AmSricain,  but  the  curiosity  of  the  monks  was  short- 
lived— they  soon  disappeared,  leaving  the  old  walls  more 
desolate  and  lonesome  than  ever. 

We  had  entertained  serious  intentions  of  visiting,  before 
our  return  to  the  Holy  City,  the  world-renowned,  rock- 
defended  Convent  of  Mar  Saba.  But  it  was  quite  plain 
that  for  some  reason  our  hitherto  polite  and  exceedingly 
attentive  Ibrahim  did  not  wish  us  to  turn  our  horses' 
heads  in  that  direction.  He  hinted  at  the  danger  attend- 
ant on  such  an  expedition,  and  spoke  openly  of  the 
miserable,  stony  way,  dignified  by  the  name  of  path,  over 
which  we  would  have  to  pass — and  of  the  cold  manner, 
and  certain  rebuff,  to  be  expected  from  the  worthy 
brethren  inhabiting  the  wild  and  romanticallv  situated 
convent — in  the  still  wilder  glen  of  Mar  Saba.  So  we 
did  not  go.  Ibrahim's  conduct  was  very  singular ;  I 
wished  much  to  make  the  exj)edition  and  return  by 
Bethlehem,  as  Porter  recommends.  Of  all  the  places  in 
the  Holy  Land  worthy  of  a  visit,  Mar  Saba  and  Ma- 
sada  present  to  the  tourist  the  greatest  attractions. 
Mar  Saba  was  founded  in  439,  by  St.  Sabas,  a  most 
worthy  anchorite  from  Cappadocia.  The  good  monk 
could  not  have  chosen  a  place  more  fitting  his  aim — 
sacred  and  solemn  seclusion.  Clustered  in  small  terraces 
high  up  the  mountain,  and  built  on  the  very  edge  of  pre- 
cipices,— clinging  in  many  places  to  the  ragged  cliffs, 
Mar  Saba  presents  the  very  picture  of  romantic  quiet. 
"  The  toute  ensemble  is  picturesque  and  singularly  wild, 
especially  when  we  view  it  in  the  pale  moonlight ;  when 
the  projecting  cliffs  and  towers  are  tinged  with  the  silver 


3 


M  \  R    S  \  BA. 


light,  while  the  intervening  spaces  and  the  deep  chasms 
below  are  shrouded  in  gloom."  The  Convenl  passed 
through  many  trials  and  dangers  during  the  Holy  Wars. 
and  was  before  this  plundered  by  the  Persians,  when  sonic 
of  its  monks  were  killed,  [hrahim  tells  us  that  even 
now,  the  monks,  while  they  do  not  live  in  daily  terror  as  in 
times  by-gone  of  the  Bedaween,  yel  they  are  constantly 
on  the  alert  for  them,  and  allow  noi  a  member  of  thai 
roving  tribe  to  darken  their  large  portal.  Mar  Saba  is 
the  richest  convent  in  Palestine,  or  one  among  the  rich- 
est,— and  its  treasures  often  tempt  the  stealthy  "to  break 
through  and  steal" — an  impossibility,  we  might  say.  1 
shall  always  regret  that  1  did  not  visit  the  romantic 
place,  and  Ibrahim  shall  ever  be  blamed  for  cheating  me 
of  that  pleasure. 

Masada  has  been  not  unfrequently  taken  by  the  gene- 
ral reader,  for  Mar  Sdba,  and  vice  versa.  Each  has  a 
deeply  romantic  history,  it  is  true,  and  each  is  favored 
with  more  than  ordinary  grandeur  of  scenery,  and  wild- 
ness  of  situation — a  grandeur  seldom  equalled  and  never 
surpassed;  yet  other  than  in  this  respect,  the  two  places 

ise  to  be  similar.  Masada  is  ante-Christ  in  origin, 
dating  hack  full  two  hundred  years  before  the  Christian 
era:  but  for  many  long  years  it  has  lain  buried  beneath 
the  debris  of  a  sunken  ruin  and  despised  country.  It 
was  1  for  the  indefatigable  explorer  Dr.  Robinson, 

.-one-  years  since,  to  revive  and  identify  it.  The  remains 
of  the  fortress  are  situated  on  the  western  coast  of  the 
I)  -  i.  on  a  cliff  high  up  a  bold  mountain,  twelve  or 
fifteen    bundled   feet    in    height.     From  this  eminence  a 


MASADA.  299 

grand  and  lovely  view  can  be  obtained  far  over  the  Moab 
Mountains,  the  Dead  Sea,  and  the  "  Wilderness  of  Judea." 
It  is  said  that  there  are  very  decided  remains  yet  left,  to 
tell  of  the  former  grandeur  of  the  pile  here  existing. 
The  spot  by  nature  is  just  as  inaccessible,  and  as  well 
protected  as  Mar  Saba,  if  not  better.  On  the  side  next 
the  sea,  the  rock  on  which  the  fortress  is  erected,  rises 
nearly  seven  hundred  feet,  almost  perpendicularly,  and 
in  other  places  "  where  the  ascent  is  more  gradual,  access 
to  the  summit  is  cut  off  by„belts  of  naked  cliff  from 
twenty  to  one  hundred  feet  high."  The  remains  of  the 
church,  of  several  towers,  and  of  one  or  two  large 
cisterns,  are  in  a  fine  state  of  preservation,  and,  strange  to 
say,  are  quite  modern  in  appearance.  The  chief  circum- 
stance, however,  which  renders  these  ruins  interesting  to 
the  tourist,  is  the  sad  tale  of  the  dark  and  damning  tra- 
gedy connected  with  the  old  gray  walls  which  yet  remain 
to  tell  it, — a  tale,  the  bloodiest  in  the  "  book  of  time." 
The  following  is  a  brief  epitome  of  the  mournful  story, 
which  is  revived  again  in  the  breasts  of  all,  as  the  name 
of  Masada  falls  on  the  ear. 

About  the  time  that  Titus  was  laying  his  plans  for 
the  siege  of  Rome,  possession  of  Masada  was  taken  by 
the  sect  or  band  of  desperate  Jews  called  Sicarii.  These 
people,  driven  to  despair  by  the  misfortunes  which  had 
overtaken  their  unfortunate  land,  and  by  the  avaricious 
encroachments  of  the  grasping  Romans,  fought  at  every 
opportunity  with  the  energy  and  ferocity  of  a  forlorn 
cause.  Along  with  Masada  they  had  garrisoned  several 
other  strong  fortresses,  but  these  others,  one  by  one,  had 


300  M  ISADA. 

been  taken  from  them,  and  now  the  Roman  general, 
Flavius  Sylva,  pitched  his  tents  before  Masada,  the  last 
stronghold  of  the  Sicarii.  His  attack  was  not  long  with- 
held,  but  it  was  successfully  repelled.  Various  were  the 
fortunes  of  the  two  contending  forces,  for  several  days. 
Finally  a  strong  arm  from  the  Roman  ranks  hurled  a  fire- 
brand with  accurate  aim;  the  wooden  fortifications  which 
the  Sicarii  had  erected,  took  fire,  and  a  fierce  wind 
favoring  the  flames,  they  wore  consumed.  The  Ro- 
mans had  now  an  advantage,  which  they  determined  to 
follow  up.  The  entire  number  of  human  beings  within 
the  fortress,  including  women  and  children,  amounted  to 
nine  hundred  and  sixty-seven.  They  had  now  no  hope 
of  victory,  and  no  hope  of  life.  What  was  to  be  done? 
They  would  not  yield,  to  fall  unresisting  victims  to  the 
Roman  soldiery — this  were  to  meet  a  far  worse  fate. 
They  had  no  time  for  deliberation.  The  morrow's  sun 
heralded  their  doom — their  death!  They  met  in  solemn 
conclave,  and  it  was  proposed  by  the  stern  and  intrepid 
Eleazar,  the  leader  of  the  besieged,  that,  sooner  than  sub- 
mit to  the  enemy,  each  man  should  yield  up  his  lift  and 
that  of  his  "■>'/<  and  babe!  It  was  a  startling  proposition, 
and  at  first,  from  the  very  horror  it  awakened,  it  was 
voted  down  unanimously.  But  the  stern  Eleazar  was 
not  bo  easily  baffled ;  he  appealed  in  touching  terms  to 
the  ruined  and  disastrous  condition  of  their  beloved 
country,  and  then  to  his  soldiers  themselves — as  freemen! 
The  chord  vibrated  through  cxi'vx  breast,  and  the  bloody 
conquest  was  won.  "  They  convulsively  embraced  their 
wives    and   children. — for   a   moment  lavished   on   them 


RETURN     TO    JERUSALEM.  301 


every  form,  every  term  of  endearment,  and  then  plunged 
their  swords  into  their  hearts.  This  scene  of  carnage 
finished,  they  heaped  up  all  the  treasures  of  the  fortress 
in  one  enormous  pile,  and  burned  them  to  ashes.  Ten  of 
their  number  were  next  chosen  by  lot  to  kill  the  rest. 
The  victims  calmly  laid  themselves  down,  each  beside  his 
fallen  wife  and  children,  and,  clasping  their  corpses  in 
his  arms,  presented  his  throat  to  the  executioner.  The 
remaining  ten  now  drew  lots  for  one,  who,  after  killing 
his  companions,  should  destroy  himself.  The  nine  were 
slain,  and  he  who  stood  singly  and  last,  having  inspected 
the  prostrate  multitude,  to  see  that  not  one  breathed, 
fired  the  palace,  drove  his  sword  through  his  body,  and 
fell  dead  beside  his  family  !" 

But  heigho !  how  time  flies  !  Twelve  o'clock  is  past, 
and  the  gloomy  midnight  settles  over  me,  as  I  pore  over 
my  Journal;  yet  I  need  sleep  very  much,  and  must 
now,  with  a  few  more  words,  lay  aside  these  rudely-writ- 
ten leaves. 

Again  we  resumed  our  tedious  journey,  Sahlimah  si- 
lently leading  the  way.  We  finally  drew  near  the  valley, 
once  more,  between  the  Moab  Mountains;  and  at  this 
place,  passed  the  goat-skin  tents  of  Sahlimah's  tribe, 
"  black,"  as  in  the  days  of  Solomon.  Here  our  good 
sheikh  resigned  his  guardian-protection  of  us;  and,  pro- 
mising to  call  on  us  in  Jerusalem,  without  fail,  in  a  day  or 
two,  for — bakhshish,  he  went  to  join  his  clan.  Late  in  the 
afternoon,  just  before  the  city  entrances  were  closed,  we 
slowly  rode  through  the  Jaffa  Gate,  and  in  a  few  moments 
more  were  safely  within  the  walls  of  the  "  City  of  the 
Foundation  of  Peace." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Prussian   Hospice,  Jenimi/em.  i 
Saturday.  March   L2th,  1859.  j 

r'  HIS  day  has  been  spent  most  pleasantly  and  profit- 
I  ably.  I  hope  by  me,  although  I  commenced  tin 
tweuty-(our  hours  in  not  a  very  commendatory 
manner;  that  is.  by  sleeping  until  nine  o'clock. 
But  after  a  hard  day's  work,  it  is  but  natural  that  slum- 
ber  should  close  very  securely  one's  eyelids,  and  that  the 
bed  should  be  such  a  dear  companion,  from  whom  to  part 
one  is  exceeding  loth.  So  to-day  my  morning  nap  ex- 
tended to  several  hours  beyond  the  sunrise. 

This  day  we  had  determined  to  make  an  expedition  to 
far-famed  and  <ver-to-be-remembered  Beit-Lahm,  or  Beth- 
lehem of  Judea.  At  half  past  ten  o'clock,  under  the 
excellent  guidance  of  Mr.  Theil,  our  landlord,  who  had 
kindly  consented  to  acl  as  dragoman  for  us,  we  galloped 
out  of  the  Jaffa  (!ate,  and  left  the  city  in  good  spirits, 
with  our  minds  filled  with  sacred  glow,  as  we  thought 
of  the  pleasure  so  soon  to  be  ours,  of  seeing  that  town, 
"little  among  the  thousands  of  Judah."  We  purposely 
took  the  long  route,  in  order  to  see  the  country  tho- 
roughly, as  the  Dearer  way  is  by  the  road  leading  from 
St.  Stephen's  Gate. 

(302) 


TREE     OF    JUDAS.  303 


Just  out  of  Jerusalem,  on  our  immediate  route,  we  saw 
the  so-called  tree  of  Judas.  It  is  traditionally  reported, 
that,  on  a  straight  limb  growing  at  right  angles  to  the 
stock  of  the  tree,  the  betrayer  hung  himself.  The  tree 
bears  marks  of  considerable  age,  but  whether  or  not 
it  can  injustice  claim  the  honor  of  having,  eighteen  hun- 
dred years  ago,  suspended  Judas  "  'tween  heaven  and 
earth,"  I  cannot  pretend  to  say.  On  the  apex  of  this  hill, 
near  which  stands  the  tree  of  Judas,  Mr.  Theil  informed 
us  tradition  placed  the  ancient  site  of  a  country  house  of 
the  High  Priest,  Caiaphas,  who  figured  so  extensively  in 
the  bloody  scenes  of  the  conviction  and  crucifixion. 
Quite  true  it  is,  that  I  saw  some  ruins  there — some  old 
and  badly-burnt  bricks,  and  several  loose  blocks  of  granite 
lying  around ;  but  this  debris  may  be  seen  anywhere,  al- 
most, in  Palestine,  and  does  not  by  any  means  prove,  or 
even  go  to  show,  that  Caiaphas  once  dwelt  here.  Right 
glad  would  I  be  to  think  so. 

After  a  ride  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  along  a  smooth, 
easy  way,  we  came  to  an  old  well  on  the  very  edge  of  the 
road,  or  path  more  properly  called.  With  this  well  is 
connected  a  tradition  yet  more  sacred  than  that  attached 
to  the  innocent  tree  behind  us.  It  is  said,  and  with  all 
solemnity,  that  when  the  Magi  were  treading  that  uncer- 
tain way  in  quest  of  the  resting-place  of  the  new-born 
Prince  of  the  House  of  David,  they  came  to  this  well  to 
quench  their  thirst.  The  greatest  doubt  hung  over  their 
minds,  and  clogged  their  actions,  as  to  whether  they  were 
pursuing  the  proper  course.  While  in  this  state  of  mind, 
and  as  one  leaned  over  to  draw  water  from  the  well,  what 


304  CONVENT    OP    M  A  R     ELI  AS. 


was  his  Btirprise  bo  see,  beautifully  reflected  in  the  clear 
depths  of  tln>  water,  thai  brighl  guidipgstar  which  had 
led  him  and  his  compauions  thus  far!  Bv  following  its 
further  guidance,  they  came  to  the  "City  of  David." 

Another  object  of  interest  to  us  to-day,  on  our  road, 
was  the  Convenl  of  Mar  Elias,  a  large,  massive-looking, 
well-protected  building;  deriving  its  name  from  the  fact 
that  Elias  once  abode  here,  or  once  reposed  here  from  his 
flight  from  Jezebel,  I  cannot  rightly  learn  which.  One 
tradition  is  as  good  as  the  other,  for  a  foundation.  It  is 
a  \er\  beautiful,  refreshing-looking  place;  and  had  it 
suited  the  pleasure  of  the  reverend  monks  inhabiting  the 
convent.  I  would  have  liked  much  to  have  lingered  there 
inside  the  walls  for  several  hours. 

In  a  half-hour's  easy  riding  from  the  Convent  of  Elias. 
we  reached  one  of  the  most  interesting  spots  that  I  have 
visited  since  I  have  been  in  the  Holy  Land,  interesting 
because  there  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  genuineness  and 
validity  of  the  sacred  location;  I  refer  to  the  tomb  of 
Rachel.  The  small  white  s([iiare  tower  with  its  dome  is 
quite  modern;  but  that  this  is  the  place  where  Rachel 
died  and  was  buried  on  the  way  to  Ephrata,  "  which  is 
Bethlehem,"  there  can  be  little  or  no  doubt.  In  Moses' 
tine  the  monument  set  over  the  grave  of  the  beloved  wife 
was  standing,  but  that  has  long  since  been  carried  away. 
All  agree  that  this  is  the  spot  where  the  good  mother  of 
[srael  died  and  was  buried;  all  concur  in  honoring  the  place, 
and  in  keeping  it  from  falling  into  decay  and  neglect. 
We  lingered  some  time  at  Rachel's  Tomb,  and  then 
slowly  mo\  ed  on  our  way. 


CHURCH     OF    THE    NATIVITY.  305 


At  last  we  climbed  the  high  hill  on  which  Bethlehem 
is  situated,  and  passing  slowly  along  the  terraces,  through 
rich  groves  of  olive  trees,  we  entered  the  city  of  the 
Saviour's  nativity.  It  was  with  doubly  solemn  feelings 
that  I  rode  into  that  sacred  village.  It  was  here  that  the 
Virgin  came  with  Joseph  from  Galilee,  out  of  a  city  called 
Nazareth,  to  pay  tithes ;  it  was  here  Immanuel,  the  God- 
begotten  Son,  was  born ;  it  was  in  3011  valley  the  star 
appeared  to  the  shepherds ;  it  was  here  the  Angel  of  the 
Lord  proclaimed  "tidings  of  great  joy,  peace  on  earth, 
good-will  to  men  ;"  and  it  was  here  that  the  Sages  of  the 
East  came  to  place  treasures,  gifts  of  frankincense  and 
myrrh  and  spices,  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  the  stable-cradled 
King  of  the  Jews  !  Of  all  this,  and  far  more,  I  thought, 
and  I  could  scarcely  believe  that  I  stood  in  "  Bethlehem 
of  Judea." 

As  we  entered  the  place,  we  dismounted,  under  Mr. 
Theil's  guidance,  at  the  house  of  a  poor  German,  who  lives 
here,  for  what  purpose  I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell.  We 
next  proceeded  through  the  narrow  streets,  up  the  town, 
until  we  reached  a  large  open  plaza  of  ground.  At  the 
further  end  of  this,  loomed  up  the  massive  bulk  of  the 
Church  of  the  Nativity,  under  the  wings  and  roof  of  which 
are  gathered  Latins,  Greeks,  and  Armenians — each  having 
their  respective  convents.  We  were  much  besieged  at 
this  point  on  our  way  by  venders  of  souvenirs,  such  as 
pearl  shells,  rudely  engraved  with  scriptural  designs,  olive- 
wood  ornaments,  and  beads  of  sandal  and  mecca-wood. 
We  ran  the  gauntlet  safely,  and,  with  Mr.  Theil  at  our  head, 

we   reached   the  convent,    and    knocked    lustily   at   the 
20 


306  OHURCH    OF     nil-:     NATIVITY. 

Latin  gate.  After  a  worthy  perseverance  and  niueli 
banging  on  the  pari  of  Mr.  Theil,  our  good  extempore 
dragoman,  we  gained  access,  and  were  received  very  politely 
by  a  Latin  priest,  who.  smiling  one  of  his  sober  smiles. 
Conducted  US  into  the  presence  of  another  sleek-looking 
brother,  who  good-naturedly  took  us  in  charge.  Our 
Swiss  friend,  Esslinger,  made  known  to  him  in  Italian 
our  desire — and  forthwith  we  proceeded  to  see  the  holy 
plat 

This  church,  we  are  told,  stands  over  the  site  of  the  old 
stable  in  which  the  Saviour  of  mankind  wras  horn — there- 
fore in  order  to  see  the  holiest  of  the  holies  here,  we  must 
provide  ourselves  with  torches,  for  that  which  we  wish  to 

is  under  ground.  After  descending  a  narrow  staircase, 
fifteen  or  twenty  feet  in  length,  we  came  to  a  long  low 
chamber  or  vault.  In  this  vault  is  an  altar,  erected  to 
the  Children  of  Bethlehem,  slain  by  Herod's  cruel  edict 
of  wholesale  murder.  It  is  said,  under  this  altar  are 
buried  twenty  thousand  children;  though,  with  all  due 
credence  to  what  they  tell,  I  must  say  the  space  is  small, 
or  the  children  were  very  small.  We  were  next  shown  the 
place  where  St.  Jerome  spent  a  greater  portion  of  his 
arduous  student-life.  In  this  little  cell  we  see  a  fair 
portrait  of  the  saint.  There  is  no  reasonable  doubt  but 
that  St.  Jerome  did  make  this  place  or  its  whereabouts 
his  abode  for  many  years;  that  the  monks  have  added 
and  exaggerated,  also,  then.'  can  be  no  doubt.     We  how- 

i  receive  the  good  and  bad,  and  carefully,  if  possible, 
winnow  one  from  the  oth^r,  a  task  often  found  to  be 
extremely  difficult. 


PLACE    OF     THE     SAVIOUR'S     BIRTH.  307 


Near  this  place  we  were  shown  the  Chapel  of  Joseph, 
so  called  because  here  the  recognised  husband  of  Mary 
stood  at  the  moment  of  the  birth  of  the  Saviour.  And 
finally  we  saw  the  most  interesting  spot  of  all — the  very 
spot  of  the  Saviour's  birth!  Several  silver  lamps,  kept 
constantly  burning,  shed  a  sickly  light  over  the  place,  and 
revealed  to  our  gaze  a  large  silver  star,  set  in  the  hard 
stone,  and  around  it  these  words,  which  are  very  dis- 
tinct : — "  Hie  de  Virgvne  Maria,  Jesus  Christus  natus  est." 
This,  then,  is  the  very  spot  of  the  nativity  of  the  Son  of 
God.  What  holy  emotions  should  throng  one's  bosom  as 
his  gaze  takes  in  at  a  glance  the  place  from  which  has 
emanated  that  Christian  spark  which  has  shed  its  lustre 
to  the  farthest  limits  of  the  world  !  Almost  in  front  of 
this  star  is  a  stone  trough,  which  stands  in  the  place 
where  once  rested  the  veritable  manger.  The  genuine 
manger,  they  say,  is,  I  think,  in  the  Church  of  Santa 
Maria  Maggiore,  or  in  St,  John  de  Lateran,  at  Rome. 
We  were  also  shown  a  portion  of  the  stable,  which  remains 
in  situ  to  this  da}' !  This  makes  quite  a  catalogue  of  holy 
places,  and,  in  writing  them  down  without  comment  as  to 
their  validity  or  not,  many  wise  ones  (?)  there  are,  who, 
should  they  chance  to  see  these  leaves,  would  deem  me 
silly,  to  say  the  least,  for  recording  them ;  and  yet  more 
so,  if  I  hinted  a  disposition  on  my  part  to  believe  all  of 
these  "  monkish  legends."  Many  there  are — especially  those 
at  a  great  distance  from  this  land  which  I  now  tread — 
who,  I  am  confident,  would  not  credit  any  of  these  things 
of  which  I  have  written  above.  I  have  known  them  to 
laugh    incredulously    at    such    recitals,    and    term    them 


108  B  i:  I  ii  r    i  N     HOLT     LOC  A  L  i  T  l  ES. 

jocosely,  "  tough  yarns;"  some  even  go  so  far  as  to  Baj  it 
was  all  humbug,  and  imf  worthy  a  fdtitntnl  maw's  credenct  .' 
Verj  well;  such  persons  onlj  advertise  in  scarlet  Letters 
their  own  ignorance,  and  dig  for  themselves  their  own 
grave — a  proper  epitaph  of  each  of  whom  should  be 
•■  Here  lies  an  Ignoramus."  Why  should  we  believe — to 
pursue  this  a  Little  further — that,  eighteen  hundred  years 
ago,  a  certain  man.  calling  himself  Jesus  Christ,  did 
change  water  into  wine,  did  cast  out  devils,  and  did  feed 
1 1 1 ; 1 1 1 \  thousands  from  a  few  small  fish,  and  a  still  less 
number  of  loaves?  And  why  not  believe  thai  this  is 
the  spot  where  He  first  saw  the  light  of  life — that  in  this 
place  also  is  located  the  burial  lots  of  the  slaughtered 
first-born?  Once  on  a  time,  both  of  the  above  facts,  it  is 
said,  occurred.  One  is — search  the  question  as  we  may — 
as  worthy  of  credence  as  the  other.  For  my  part,  believ- 
ing  in  Holy  Writ,  as  I  do,  I  also  believe  in  the  identity 
and  genuineness  of  the  most  of  those  localities.  Let  us 
remember  that  it  is  just  a  little  over  eighteen  hundred 
years  ago  that  those  events  of  religions  history  transpired, 
and  yel  we  have  in  some  instances  records  kept  of  objects 
of  wonder  dating  their  identit)  and  validity  back  to  a 
period  long  prior  to  the  Christian  era.  For  instance — a 
familiar  example — the  monuments  of  Luxor — the  mono- 
lith obelisks,  which  "  wise  men/'  and  interpreters  of 
hieroglyphics,  aver,  were  erected  by  good  Sesostris  of 
Egypt  fifteen  hundi'ed  years  before  Christ;  or  Cleopatra's 
Net  lie  at  Alexandria,  which  was  erected  sixteen  hundred 
re  Christ!  In  other  word-,  1  believe  jusl  as 
much  that   I  saw  the  place  where  once  the  manger,  in 


BETHLEHEM.  309 


which  Christ  was  cradled,  stood,  as  that  I  was  in  Bethle- 
hem at  all.  Many  may  laugh  at  this ;  yet  I  know  there 
are  some,  at  least,  who  agree  with  me.  Of  course  there 
are  some  things — some  strange,  wild,  heathenish  legends 
told  us — which  it  would  be  folly  to  credit ;  nor  do  I  mean 
such  in  the  admission  or  assertion  above.  My  feelings, 
since  I  have  been  in  Terra  Santa,  are  directly  the  reverse 
of  those  of  some  of  our  party  as  regards  belief  in  holy 
localities — too  exuberant  and  too  confiding. 

Next  to  Jerusalem,  Bethlehem  is  the  most  interesting 
spot  in  the  Holy  Land.  It  has  been  made  famous  and 
sacred  by  two  characters  only,  even  if  none  other  threw 
interesting  associations  over  the  village — Jesus  Christ  and 
King  David.  Once  in  those  far  times  it  was  held  by  the 
Philistines,  and  it  was  then  that  David  longed  for  the 
water  from  a  certain  wrell  near  hy,  and  which  three  of  his 
"  strong  men"  obtained  for  him  at  great  risk.  The  well 
let  me  remark,  was  shown  to  us,  though  it  is  situated  too 
far  from  the  town  to  be  genuine. 

The  biblical,  touching  story  of  Ruth,  of  the  Moab  tribe, 
who  so  affectionately  clung  to  her  mother-in-law,  Naomi, 
is  sufficient  to  endear  Bethlehem  to  our  hearts ;  and  as 
we  stand  on  the  high  ramparts  of  the  Church  of  the  Na- 
tivity and  read  the  story  of  affection,  while  the  fields  of 
Boaz,  in  which  Ruth  gleaned,  lie  just  before  us,  the  recital 
has  a  double  pathos,  and  a  quadruple  interest.  From  this 
terrace  also,  we  can  see  the  region  where  David  kept  his 
father's  flocks ;  and  it  was  in  the  valley  to  our  left  that 
the  shepherds  reposed  when  "  the  glory  of  the  Lord  shone 
round  about  them." 


310  WOMEN     OF     B  l   in  II  n  KM. 


Bethlehem  is  said  to  contain  some  thirty-three  hundred 
souls,  all  of  whom  are  generally  considered  Christians,  as 
it  is  said  they  are — the  present  inhabitants — nil  descended 
from  the  Crusaders.  That  Mohammedans,  however,  are 
in  the  town.  1  am  thoroughly  convinced.  The  entire 
population  Beems  to  be  a  low,  miserable  set  ;  but  claiming 
this  signal  advantage  over  everj  other  town  in  Syria  and 
Palestine — they  are  honest. 

The  word  Bethlehem  means  Houst  of  Bread,  and  Beit- 
Lahm,  the  present  Arabic  name,  means  House  of  Meat  or 
Flesh.  Besides  this  ••  Bethlehem  of  Judea,"  the  ■•one"  so 
"little"  among  the  nations  of  earth — there  is  another, 
some  ninety  miles  distant,  which  is  referred  to  in  Josh, 
xix.  L5,  in  regard  to  the  possessions  of  the  tribe  of 
Simeon.  But  with  it  there  is  connected  nothing  of 
special  interest. 

Before  I  visited  the  town.  I  had  heard  much  of  Beth- 
lehemite  women,  and  their  extraordinary  beauty;  but  I 
must  confess  I  was  not  struck  with  the  fair  sex  which  I 
saw  sauntering  along  the  miserable  streets.  I  am  quite 
sure  that  far  handsomer  -iris  can  be  ^-cn  any  day  on 
Broadway  or  Chestnut  Street,  than  you  can  find  by 
diligent  searching,  for  a  month,  in  Bethlehem.  1  saw 
only  a  few  in  the  little  town,  however,  and.  besides,  as 
"plumage  makes  the  bird,"  our  girls  after  all  may  be 
nothing  more  than  "fuss  and  feathers."  The  virtue  of 
Bethlehemite  women  has  been  extolled  too,  with  what 
of  truth  1  cannot  say.  The  following  incident,  which  I 
,  |p, in  Poller,  as  coming  from  the  Abbe  Geramh, 
well    shows    what    hare    suspicion    even,    will    produce   in 


A     TRAGEDY.  311 


Bethlehem,  and  how  dreadfully  vengeance  is  meted  on 
the  guilty  party  : — 

"  Some  years  ago  a  Mohammedan  of  Bethlehem  was 
accidentally  found  in  one  of  the  neighboring  grottos, 
and,  unfortunately,  the  young  widow  of  a  Catholic  Beth- 
lehemite  was  found  there  too.  Those  who  discovered 
them  at  once  spread  the  news  through  the  village,  and 
the  Mohammedan  took  to  flight.  The  young  woman, 
alarmed  at  the  uproar,  had  just  time  to  seek  refuge  in 
the  Latin  Convent  as  her  relatives  came  upon  her;  but 
having  discovered  her  retreat,  they  rushed  to  the  spot. 
The  door  was  locked,  and  though  of  iron,  it  soon  yielded 
to  their  fury.  The  excited  crowd  rushed  in,  and  the 
unhappy  victim  was  now  face  to  face  with  those  bent  on 
sacrificing  her.  In  vain  the  monks  formed  a  rampart 
around  her  with  their  bodies ;  in  vain  they  extended 
their  supplicating  hands  towards  the  infuriated  crowd ; 
in  vain  they  besought  them,  in  the  name  of  the  merciful 
Saviour,  who  was  born  but  a  few  paces  off,  not  to  spill 
the  blood  of  an  unfortunate  fellow-creature  whose  guilt 
was  not  proved ;  in  vain  some  of  them  threw  themselves 
at  the  feet  of  the  multitude,  while  others  strove  to  repel 
them  by  force.  The  monks  were  driven  aside,  and  the 
young  woman  dragged  to  the  area  in  front  of  the  convent. 
Here  a  scene  was  enacted  the  very  thought  of  which 
causes  one  to  shudder  with  horror.  Surrounded  by  her 
executioners,  the  helpless  creature  cried  aloud  for  mercy. 
She  entreated  to  be  heard  for  a  few  moments ;  she  assured 
them  she  could  prove  her  innocence.  Her  father,  her 
brothers,  her  relatives,  were  all  there ;   but  none  would 


112  DAVID     AND     ORPHEUS. 

Listen  to  her  tale.  She  appealed  to  their  sense  of  justice, 
in  fraternal  affection,  to  paternal  love;  bul  all  in  vain, 
and  she  sank  fainting  to  the  ground.  She  awoke  again 
to  consciousness ;  luit  it  was  only  when  the  death-stroke 
was  given.  She  opened  her  eyes;  but  it  was  only 
her  brothers,  in  imitation  of  the  terrible  example 
of  her  father,  steeping  their  hands  in  her  blood,  and 
holding  them  up  to  the  people  to  show  that  they  had 
washed  away  the  stain  from  their  name!  The  still  pal- 
pitating corpse  was  cut  to  pieces  by  the  mob,  and  left 
exposed  during  the  remainder  of  the  day." 

At  this  place  I  might  record  (as  1  have  lately  read) 
a  striking  resemblance,  traced  by  a  clever  hand,  between 
David  who  watched  his  sheep  near  Bethlehem,  and  the 
musician.  Orpheus.  Let  me  here  remark  that  for  over 
five  hundred  years  before  Christ,  music  was  made  use  of 
to  allay  madness — I  mean  to  say  that  we  have  accounts 
of  its  having  been  so  employed,  given  us  by  profane  his- 
torians. I  give  the  entire  ([notation  as  regards  the  simi- 
larity between  David  and  Orpheus. 

••lie  (referring  to  Orpheus)  was  most  skilful  on  the 
lyre.  So  was  David.  Photius  says  be  was  a  king.  So 
was  David.  The  g  sneral  notion  had  been  that  he  was  a 
Thracian;  but  Pausanias  says  that  the  ancient  Greek 
pictures  represented  him  in  Greek  dress,  and  that  he  had 
nothing  Thracian  about  him;  in  another  place  one 
Egyptian,  whose  name  is  net  given,  declared  he  was  an 
E  yptian.     And  the  fact   that  Orpheus  was  represented 

i  ring  the  tiara  on  his  head,  show-  that  he  was  an 
Arabic  prince.     T'mrn  is  probably  of  Hebrew  origin,  and 


Solomon's   pools.  313 


in  the  Scriptures  it  will  be  found  to  signify  just  such  a 
crown  as  David  took  from  the  Ammonite  king's  head,  and 
placed  it  on  his  own,  at  one  of  the  most  celebrated  battles 
during  his  reign,  with  the  nations  beyond  Jordan.  The 
traditions  of  the  Arabs  is  that  stones  and  birds  were  dedi- 
cated to  him,  but  he  could  not  reclaim  the  Arabs.  So 
Orpheus  made  the  rocks,  woods,  and  animals  follow  him, 
but  could  not  civilize  the  Thracians.  Orpheus  charmed 
Pluto,  the  King  of  the  Infernal  Regions,  and  thereby 
obtained  his  wife.  David  pleased  Saul,  whose  name  in 
Hebrew,  when  pointed  differently  (though  radically  the 
same),  means  King  of  Infernal  Regions.  He,  too,  de- 
tained David's  wife,  and  afterwards  gave  her  to  him." 

How  much  the  above  is  really  worth  may  be  a  question 
of  controversy,  but  that  it  shows  an  interesting  similarity 
between  the  two  characters  mentioned,  there  can  be  no 
doubt. 

After  making  numerous  purchases  from  the  uncouth, 
half-naked  inhabitants,  Montag,  Esslinger,  and  myself, 
accompanied  by  our  good  Moukary,  Hassan,  who  went 
with  us  to  the  town,  set  off  on  our  return  to  Jerusalem. 
Mr.  S — tt,  with  Mr.  Theil  as  guide,  went  to  Solomon's 
Pools,  only  a  short  distance  beyond  Bethlehem.  We 
would  have  all  gone,  but  the  prospects  of  a  speedy  and 
heavy  rain  deterred  us.  Nothing,  however,  could  deter 
our  indefatigable  friend,  who  does  not  believe  in  j^ostpon- 
ing  till  to-morrow,  what  can  be  done  to-day. 

These  pools,  or,  as  the  Arabs  call  them,  El-Burdh, 
which  means  the  tanks,  are  situated  in  a  deep  rocky  val- 
ley.   They  are  three  in  number ;  and  the  peculiar  manner 


3]  I  SOLOMON  *S     POO]   3. 


of  the  fashioning  of  the  stones — tin  bevelled  edge — places 
them  indisputably  to  a  very  early  age.  We  have  no 
record  of  the  pools  in  the  Bible,  bul  thai  they  date  many 
years  prior  to  the  Christian  era.  there  can  be  no  question. 

Tin-  tanks  arc  parth  hewn  in  the  living  rock,  which 
forms  the  cradle  o['  the  valley,  and  in  pari  are  of  solid 
masonry,  well  cemented,  and  indicative  of  a  workman- 
ship by  no  means  inferior  to  that  of  our  modern  day. 
There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  Temple,  long 
years  ago,  was  supplied  from  these  reservoirs  with  water. 
The  tanks  are  supplied  by  a  subterranean  stream  from 
one  dt'  the  neighboring  fields.  Porter  gives  the  following 
as  the  dimensions  of  the  reservoirs: — 

Upper  Pool. 

Length 380  feet. 

Depth,  East  End 25    " 

Breadth,  East  End 236    " 

West  End 229    " 

Middle   Pool. 

Distance  from  Upper  Pool       ........  160  feet. 

Length  423    " 

Depth,  East  End  39    " 

1.  -.-•  End 226    " 

West  End 229    " 

Lower  Pool. 

m  Middle  Pool  .         .         .         .        .         .         .  248  feet. 

gth 582    " 

Depth,  East  End 50   " 

Breadth,  Bast  End 207    " 

West  End 148   " 

I  hope  to  make  a  visit  to  these  pool-  shortly,  and  shall 


CASA    NUOVA.  315 


devote  at  least  half  a  day  to  their  inspection.  Such, 
then,  was  the  (worthy)  object  of  Mr.  S — tt's  farther  visit, 
while  Esslinger,  Montag,  Hassan,  and  myself  started  back 
to  Jerusalem.  S.  lingered  yet  awhile  in  Bethlehem,  in 
order  to  make  a  few  more  purchases  from  the  Arabs  of 
olive-wood,  napkin  rings,  pearl  shells,  &c. 

We  came  back  very  briskly,  and,  by  taking  a  shorter 
route,  we  reached  Jerusalem  in  one  hour.  We  had  much 
fun  at  Hassan  and  his  little  donkey.  Hassan  rides  with 
singular  ease  and  grace;  first  sitting  astride,  then  side- 
ways, like  a  fashionable  belle  at  a  riding-school — all  the 
time  the  little  donkey  keeping  up  its  short,  nervous,  and 
delightful  canter. 

On  reaching  the  Jaffa  Gate  in  the  city,  we  dismounted 
and  went  to  the  Casa  Nuova  (Latin  convent,  or  hostelry), 
to  look  at  some  pearl  shells  which  we  understood  were  for 
sale  here.  Much  to  Esslinger's  disgust  and  chagrin,  how- 
ever, the  old  Superior  was  not  in,  and  without  his  permis- 
sion we  could  obtain  nothing.  We  then  proceeded  to 
our  quarters,  which  I  was  glad  enough  to  reach — as  the 
excessive  exercise  and  consequent  fatigue  I  have  under- 
gone for  the  last  two  days  have  incapacitated  me  for 
active  duty  for  twenty-four  hours  to  come  at  least. 

S.  returned  in  due  season,  and  was,  much  to  our 
amusement,  brimful  of  adventures.  Still  later,  Messrs. 
S — tt  and  Theil  entered  also.  Mr.  S — tt  met  with 
Mr.  J — b — sn  and  the  English  Consul  near  Solomon's 
Wells,  and  returned  with  them.  Through  the  Consul's 
influence,  the  rest  of  the  party  got  in  the  gates,  as  they 
were  closed  at  the  time  they  returned.     Mr.  S — tt  took 


316  APPROACHING     DEPARTURE. 


tea  with  Mr  Finn,  the  Consul,  whom  he  describes  as 
being  a  most  polite,  hospitable,  and  erudite  gentleman. 

Prussian  Hospice,  Jerusalem.  ] 
Sunday,  March  L3th,  L859.  I 
This,  another  Sabbath  day,  1  have  spent  in  the  city  of 

tin*  Lord,  and  at  its  close  I  heave  a  sigh  ofregret,for  this 
is  the  last  day  of  rest  I  shall  sec  within  the  sacred  walls 
of  Jerusalem !  The  time  has  flown  by  with  a  singular  and 
noticeable  rapidity  since  we  reached  the  city  ;  scarcely 
can  I  tell  how  it  has  none,  and  how  been  occupied. 
Gladly  would  we  linger  longer  amid  these  delightful 
scenes,  rendered  so  dear  by  the  sacred  associations  which 
cluster  around  every  building — every  mountain — every 
valley — every  twig — tree  and  stone.  But  our  engage- 
ments call  us  elsewhere,  and  we  must  hasten  our  depart- 
ure hence.  As  it  is.  after  we  arrive  in  Jaffa,  the  chances 
that  we  can  embark  are  dubious,  for  a  severe  storm  has 
been  raging  off  the  coast  for  several  days,  rendering  it 
almost  impossible  for  steamers  to  land.  If  we  can  get 
aboard  the  steamer  going  >/j>  the  coast,  we  will  embark 
and  go  as  far  as  Beirut:  at  that  place  it  is  very  certain 
we  can  take  another  steamer  for  Alexandria,  whither  we 

ultimately  bound. 
I  have  been  quite  unwell   throughout  the  day;   I  man- 

l,  however,  to  write  several  letters  home.     And  thus 

passed  the  day.  I  wished  to  attend  church  at  Dr. 
Barclay's,  but  was  too  much  indisposed  to  go.  Montag 
and    Esslinger,    in   the    enthusiasm  of  the    moment,  went 

ii   to   Bethlehem,  and  returned  fuller  than  ever  with 


OUR     PLANS.  317 


startling  adventures.  Mr.  S — tt  preached,  I  believe,  at 
Dr.  Barclay's,  to-day.  I  was  real  sorry  that  I  could  not 
hear  him.  Ibrahim  applied  to  me  to-night  for  a  recom- 
mendation ;  I  gave  it  to  him  cheerfully.  He  has  engaged 
another  party  (Americans)  for  Jordan  and  Jericho.  I 
am  glad  he  meets  with  such  custom.  I  thought  I  saw  a 
young  Miss  B.,  of  New  York,  to-day,  walking  Christian 
Street  with  a  gentleman,  whom  I  took  to  be  her  father. 
Miss  B.  was  a  fellow-passenger  with  me  in  the  Vanderbilt, 
last  May,  to  Havre.     I  may  be  mistaken,  however. 

We  have  now  all  of  us  finally  determined,  after  much 
argument  pro  and  con,  to  leave  the  city  of  Eternal  Peace, 
day  after  to-morrow,  for  Jaffa.  All  of  our  original  party 
will  leave  together,  with  the  exception  of  our  good  friend 
John  Montag,  to  whom  all  of  us  have  formed  a  strong 
attachment.  The  good  "  Huzzar"  lingers  to  fulfil  his 
vows,  of  which  I  have  spoken  in  a  previous  day's  Jour- 
nal. Meinherr  speaks  of  our  coming  parting  with  tears 
in  his  eyes.  I  am  sorry  to  say  good-bye  to  him,  for  when 
that  word  is  spoken,  we  will  not  exchange  words  again, 
I  am  certain,  this  side  of  the  Great  Unknown.  The  old 
fellow  has  promised  us  a  story,  which  he  will  give  us 
to-morrow  night,  I  imagine.  I  shall  never  forget  the  day 
I  saw  Meinherr  in  the  Museum  in  far  away  Naples. 

If  possible,  should  we  go  on  to  Beirut,  we  shall  visit 
Ba'albeck  and  Damascus.  As  yet,  however,  we  cannot 
determine  on  that  decisively. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


Prussian  Hospice,  Jerusalem 
Monday,  March  1  1th.  L859 


rill.    "I 

59.  J 


[IS  has  been,  I  think,  my  last  day  in  Jerusalem ;  to- 
morrow morning  at  seven  o'clock  we  leave  the  Jaffa 
Gate.  None  of  us  will  ever  again  see  these  sacred 
walls;  and  when  they  are  hid  from  our  gaze  to-mor- 
row  morningj  they  are  undoubtedly  hid  for  ever.  How 
many  of  us  in  this  party  will  see  the  New  Jerusalem,  God 
only  knows — all.  I  trust.  I  have  become  very  much  at- 
tached to  the  city  already,  despite  its  forbidding  filth,  and 
low  state  of  degenerating  degradation  of  its  God-forsaken 
inhabitants.  The  power  of  association  holds  higher  rule 
in  my  bosom,  and  the  disgusting  features  of  the  town  are 
lost  in  the  sacred  memories  <>1*  the  past.  But  to-morrow 
night  my  head  will  repose  again  on  a  monkish  pillow  at 
Ramleh. 

This  morning,  by  invitation,  we  partook  of  a  superb 
Eastern  breakfast  with  Mr.  J — b — sn.  We  were  treated 
t<>  several  kind-  of  fruit,  both  fresh  and  preserved,  and 
to  the  most  delicious  wine  I  ever  tasted — not  excepting 
the  delicate  Capri  and  Lachryma  Christi  of  Italy,  the 
<  reisenheimer  of  the  Rhine,  or  the  sparkling  St.  Julien  of 
Paris.      The  wine  we  drank  this  morning  was  made  from 

(318) 


LAST    VISITS.  319 


the  grapes  that  grew  on  Hebron,  and  the  sacred  feature 
of  the  beverage  may  have  lent  an  additional  charm  to  its 
flavor.  To  say  the  very  least,  it  was  most  delicious. 
Would  that  I  could  carry  some  with  me — as  a  souvenir, — 
not  as  a  drink! 

From  the  sumptuous  board  of  our  friend,  we — Mr. 
S — tt,  S.,  and  myself — took  a  leisurely  walk  about  the 
city,  and  viewed  with  melancholy  interest,  objects,  to 
which  on  to-morrow  we  bid  adieu.  I  made  the  purchase 
of  an  Arab  gun-barrel,  a  long,  cumbersome  tube.  I  am 
afraid  it  will  be  an  unwieldy  souvenir. 

I  made  a  final  visit  to  old  Bergheim,  my  banker,  whom 
I  found  in  a  very  bad  humor ;  so  much  so,  that  he  scarcely 
treated  me  with  ordinary  respect  or  politeness.  So  much 
for  men  and  manners — both  changeable  as  are  the  phases 
of  an  April  day — sunshine  and  shower  are  gloomily  inter- 
mingled. 

According  to  previous  agreement,  we — Mr.  S — tt,  S., 
and  myself — proceeded  to  the  residence  of  Mr.  Deniss. 
That  gentleman  was  to  take  our  photographs  together,  in 
some  sacred  spot,  and  thus  add  to  our  already  heavy  stock 
of  souvenirs.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  Esslinger  and  our 
good  friend  the  "  Huzzar,"  declined  entering  into  the  agree- 
ment, though  they  were  loudest  in  praise  of  the  proposi- 
tion when  first  considered.  Another  instance  of  human 
fickleness.  We,  however,  were  not  so  easily  deterred.  In 
company  with  Mr.  Deniss,  whom  we  found  awaiting  us, 
we  proceeded  at  his  suggestion  to  St.  Stephen's  gate, 
thence  to  the  sacred  Garden  of  Gethsemane.  From  our 
position  on  the  high  bluffs,  just  outside  the  gate,  we  had 


320  VIS]  I   TO   G  Mr  ii  si:  m  \  n  B. 

a  fine  view  of  the  beautiful  slope  of  Mt.  Scopus.  This 
mountain  is  but  a  continuation  of  the  Mount  of  Olives. 
We  were  pointed  out  the  spot  on  Scopus,  where,  it  is  said, 
Titus  firsi  caughl  a  glimpse  of  the  city  which  he  was  so 
Boon  to  overrun.  We  gol  a  good  view  here  also  of  the 
long  straggling  wall  on  this  side  of  the  city,  which  forms 
the  ramparts  of  the  town.     The  entire  circumference  of 

the  city  walls  is  about  sixteen  thousand  feet. 

We  finally  reached  the  locked  and  bolted  door  of  the 
Gardes  of  Gethsemane;  hut  here  it  seemed  as  if  further 
progress  was  denied.  We  heat  and  banged,  and  hallooed 
until  our  hands  and  throats  were  sore  from  exertion. 
Finally  Deniss,  by  almost  superhuman  efforts,  brought 
some  one  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  gate,  whither  we 
were  so  persistently  endeavoring  to  get.  A  long  parley, 
held  then  between  Deniss  and  the  inside  unseen,  in  some 
heathenish  dialect,  resulted  in  the  large  gate  slowly 
moving  hack.  Revealed  to  our  gaze,  was  a  most  miser- 
able-appearing Latin  priest,  who,  from  the  tattered  con- 
dition of  his  garb,  and  the  haggard  careworn  expression 
of  his  countenance,  looked  as  if  he  might  have  been 
doing  penance  all  his  life.  lie  was  the  custodian  of  the 
sanctity  of  this  sacred  spot! 

I  cannot  well  describe  the  main'  emotions  of  my  mind 
as  I  stood  fairly  within  the  limits  of  the  divine  enclosure, 
and  recollected  that  here  once  echoed  the  voice  of  Him  in 
agonizing  prayer!  This  spot  answers  well  to  the  brief 
description  we  have  of  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane,  given 
in  the  Bible.  //  was  situated  at  the  foot  of  Olivet,  and 
at   some  distance  from  the  public  thoroughfare,  so  it  is 


PHOTOGRAPH  OF  PARTY  IN  GETHSEMANE.   321 


now.  This  then  is  a  genuine  holy  place,  a  place  so  holy 
that  the  most  flinty-hearted  cannot  enter  it  without 
feelings  of  awe  and  veneration,  or  without  emotions  akin 
to  them. 

Inside  the  enclosure  we  saw  a  small,  dirty,  miserable 
tenement  and  a  well.  Several  large  and  venerable  olives 
stood  around  in  gloomy  dignity.  They  may  possibly,  in 
their  far  distant  youth,  have  witnessed  the  agony  of  Jesus. 
Several  beds  of  flowers,  and  a  series  of  earthenware 
plates  (tacked  to  posts),  on  which  were  rudely  painted 
the  different  scenes  in  the  Saviour's  trial  and  crucifixion, 
completed  the  list  of  objects  to  be  seen.  I  have  before 
remarked  in  a  former  day's  Journal,  that  the  Latins  have 
possession  of  this  Garden  of  Gethsemane.  The  Greeks 
have  made  another,  and  in  clue  time,  it  will  by  them  be 
invested  with  all  the  holiness  of  the  other. 

This,  then — the  sacred  Garden  of  Gethsemane — was 
the  spot  chosen  by  Mr.  Deniss,  on  which  to  take  the  view 
of  our  party.  A  photograph  of  my  humble  self  in  the 
sacred  Garden  of  Gethsemane  !  what  a  thought !  After 
much  trouble  and  several  impertinent  interruptions  from 
some  Swedes,  we  were  presented  with  a  good  negative 
view  of  our  party,  with  the  noble  branches  of  the  aged 
olives  waving  over  us.  We  cannot  get  the  pictures  in 
time  to  take  with  us  to-morrow,  but  Deniss  will  arrange 
the  matter  so  that  we  can  get  them  in  Jaffa,  on  our  re- 
turn down  the  coast  to  Alexandria. 

We  returned  home  about  the  dinner  hour,  much  pleased 
with  our  morning's  work.  Dr.  Gorham,  our  Consul,  called, 
on  us  in  the  afternoon,  and  sat  an   hour  or  so ;  the  re- 

21 


(HON  l  A  (,    S    SECON  D    STOB  V 


mainder  of  our  part}'  going  oil".  1  was  lefl  to  entertain  tin* 
doctor,  and  I  must  Bay,  1  never  enjoyed  a  more  pleasant 
time.  He  is  Bomewhal  different  from  what  1  first  took 
him,  though  not  radically. 

S.  and  myself  purchased  an  old  trunk  to-day,  simply 
as  a  vehicle  for  our  curiosity-gatherings,  which  will  1"' 
much  increased  before  we  "finish  up"  Egypt.  V\  <i 
are  all  now  gathered  in  the  dining-room  of  the  Bos- 
pice.  Mr.  S — tt,  S.,  and  Esslinger,  are  busily  engaged 
in  "packing  up,"  S.  performing  that  remarkably  'pleasant 
duty  as  well  for  me,  as  for  himself.     Kind  fellow! 

Some  one  has  just  reminded  Meinherr  Montag,  who 
sits  idly  by  watching  our  preparations  for  departure  with 
melancholy  interest,  that  he  promised  us  a  story.  The 
last  that  Meinherr  told,  was  listened  to  by  S.  and 
myself  only,  and  it  was  in  the  Malta  Cross  Hotel,  in  far- 
away Valletta.     The  reader  remembers  it,  I  imagine. 

Meinherr  very  reluctantly  consents,  and  I  translate 
and  record  as  he  gives  it  to  us.  Esslinger  is  the  general 
interpreter.     I  will  style  Meinherr's  story, 


THE    HAND   ON    THE    WALL. 

Between  Bingen  and  Madinz,  on  the  lordly  Rhine, 
Bituated  in  rugged  grandeur,  high  on  a  beetling  cliff,  are, 
to  this  day.  the  ruin-  of  a  once  magnificent  and  command- 
ing castle.  Like  other  old  chateaux,  which  still  in  their 
ruin  frown  down  on  the  beautiful  river  rippling  at  their 


montag's   second   story.  323 


bases,  this  one  in  particular  has  a  score  of  wild  legends  con- 
nected with  it,  from  which  the  following  is  selected  : — 

In  the  twelfth  century  Baron  Konigsgrab  owned  this 
chateau,  which  was  then  in  all  its  pomp  and  power. 
The  baron  was  noted  among  his  feudal  neighbors  for 
being  a  very  bad  man ;  many  a  dark  deed  he  was  com- 
pelled, by  rumor  at  least,  to  father.  His  heavy  step 
never  sounded  in  the  dark  corridors,  or  on  the  high 
terrace  of  his  castle,  but  that  it  brought  a  chill  of  fear 
to  all  within  ear-shot.  Many  wives  had  blessed  the 
baron's  nuptial  bed — but  one  by  one,  at  different  times, 
the}^  disappeared,  and  none  within  the  dreary  castle's 
sombre  wTalls  could  tell  their  fate.  No  issue  had  followed 
marriage,  save  by  the  first  wife;  and  that  issue  was  a 
doughty  lad.  At  the  time  of  the  present  legend,  he  was 
an  exile  from  home,  endeavoring  to  win,  with  sword  and 
lance,  a  lasting  fame.  Why  he  was  exiled  none  knew — 
that  he  was  an  alien  and  an  exile  from  his  ancestral 
halls,  all  knew.  Many  years  had  elapsed  since,  a  mere 
stripling,  he  had  been  driven  forth  to  wander  on  the 
charities  of  a  world,  then  not  more  kind  than  now. 

In  the  castle  of  Konigsgrab  there  was  a  chamber  far 
out  on  one  of  the  eastern  turrets,  and  many  feet  above 
the  dark  moat  which  circled  around  the  gloomy  pile — a 
chamber  which,  from  the  frequency  of  sights  seen,  and 
still  stranger  sounds  heard  near  it,  had  won  the  appella- 
tion of  Goblin  Chamber.  None  within  the  walls  of  the 
castle  would  go  in  the  corridor  where  was  located 
the  dreaded  apartment,  even  at  noonday.  It  was  a 
favorite  mode  of  punishment  with  the  baron,  to  cause  his 


324  montag's  second  stort. 


trembling  vassal  to  repair  to  the  chamber,  and  there 
remain  until  the  morning,  it  was  asserted  thai  main  a 
poor  fellow,  who  had  been  consigned  to  this  room,  and 
locked  securely  in  for  the  night,  was  found  in  the  morn- 
ing quite  dead,  while  tin-  mark  of  a  blood-red  hand  could 
be  seen  imprinted  on  the  forehead.  The  baron  himself 
dared  not  go  alone  to  the  chamber;  and  whenever  In- 
heard  the  name,  though  mentioned  by  himself,  he  would 
{•ale  and  tremble  Like  the  aspen-leaf.  This  was  singular 
too,  for  the  apartment  was  the  baron's  bridal  chamber! 
Many  a  bold  knight  who,  drunk  with  the  strong  wines 
from  Konigsgrab's  well-covered  tables,  vauntingly  demand- 
ed the  Goblin  Chamber  for  his  sleeping  apartment — and 
if  so  inebriated  that  he  could  not  fly  from  the  room,  the 
gallant  cavalier  would,  on  the  morrow,  be  found  stark  in 
death  ;  while  the  terrible  blood-red  hand,  pressed  on  the 
brow,  told  who  had  been  the  slayer.  As  a  general  thing, 
however,  the  knight,  howsoever  drunk  he  was,  soon  be- 
came sobered  sufficiently  to  rush  with  pale  face,  starting- 
exes,  and  palsied  legs  from  the  chamber,  leaving  his 
valorous  sword  ingloriously  behind  him.  At  such  times 
— the  occupation  of  the  chamber  from  compulsion  or 
otherwise — the  elements  soon  waxed  into  a  state  of 
demoniac  wrath — winds  howled  down  the  rugged  moun- 
tains' Bide  and  through  the  deep  gorges,  like  the  blast  of 
a  thousand  war-trumpets — lightnings  played  mad  antics  in 
the  heavens,  and  the  thunder's  voice  detonated  with  ter- 
rific force  about  the  devoted  castle.  Every  peasant  in  the 
neighborhood  knew  of  the  terrible  tales  which  were  told 
of   the   old   chateau  ;    and    from   the  time  the  huge  pile 


montag's   second   story.  325 


arose  on  their  sight  until  they  hurried  quickly  by,  beneath 
its  overhanging  shadow,  scarcely  a  word  passed  their  lips. 
Such  was  the  name  and  notoriety  the  castle  and  its  lord 
had  obtained. 

At  the  close  of  a  year,  on  one  particular  Christmas,  the 
old  Baron  had  relaxed  his  stern  rule  ;  he  had  issued  orders 
to  all  of  his  retainers  to  assemble  at  the  castle,  and  pro- 
mised them  that  they  should  spend  the  night  in  merry- 
making and  in  wine-tempered  joviality.  Many  a  long 
year  had  flown  by  since  the  banquet  hall  of  the  old  cha- 
teau was  lit  with  the  festive  torch;  and  the  Baron's  call 
excited  much  surprise  as  well  as  pleasure  among  his  hard- 
working vassals.  The  night  came  around  in  due  season, 
and  nothing  was  spared  by  Konigsgrab  to  add  to  the  real 
comfort  of  his  men.  The  old  chateau  blazed  with  a  wel- 
come light  from  top  to  bottom.  So  rare  was  this  sight, 
that  it  was  remarked  by  many  at  a  distance,  who  sagely 
and  truly  remarked  that  something  strange  was  going  to 
happen.  Despite  the  joyousness  of  the  occasion,  the 
night  wore  a  gloomy,  threatening  aspect,  and  the  dull, 
thick,  leaden  clouds,  hurrying  wrathfully  above  the  turret 
wall,  seemed  to  wear  a  forbidding  frown. 

But  the  season  of  festivity  commenced ;  the  laugh  and 
the  jest  and — the  bowl  passed  freely;  happiness  was  on 
every  face  and  joy  in  every  heart.  Noble  harpers  sung  of 
love  and  war — fruitful  themes  alike — and  with  their  vary- 
ing melodies  charmed  the  souls  of  all.  Konigsgrab  looked 
on,  well  pleased ;  his  generally  morose  face  was  lighted 
with  a  radiant  glow  which  spoke  well  his  inward  satisfac- 
tion— a  glow  it  had  not  felt  for  many  a  day.     Suddenly, 


326  MON  TAG    -     S  E(  <'N  D    S  fOE  2 


during  a  lull  of  the  music  in  the  kail,  a  faintly  shrill 
and  prolonged  winding  blast  echoed  through  the  room, 
ami  told  that  there  was  some  one  without  seeking  hospi- 
tality and  shelter  for  the  uight.  A  faint  cloud  of  dis- 
pleasure passed  over  Konigsgrab's  brow  when  the  un- 
known trumpet  sound  fell  on  his  ear  as  it  rose  above  the 
wild  storm  without. 

••  Who  can  come  at  this  time  of  the  night  '.'"  he  moodilj 
remarked;  but,  as  if  remembering  the  festive  occasion. 
he  continued,  "but  let  him  conic!  whoever  lie  is.  he  is 
welcome.  Tell  the  warden  to  lower  the  drawbridge,  and 
admit  the  stranger." 

There  was  a  flag  in  the  merriment  and  gaiety — the  jest 
was  suspended,  and  each  awaited  the  coming  of  the  un- 
known, who  had  chanced  so  fortunately  to  call  in  a  lucky 
though  late  hour  at  the  castle-gates  of  Konigsgrab.  The 
curiosity  and  patience  of  the  company  did  not  suffer;  a 
heavy,  decided  footfall  sounded  quickly  along  the  corridor 
leading  to  the  hall,  and  in  another  moment  a  tall,  slender 
form,  fully  mailed  and  well  armed,  appeared  in  the  door- 
way, and  stood  lor  a  moment  in  the  full  blaze  of  the 
bright  light.  Jlis  visor  was  down,  and  the  long  drooping 
plume  of  ebon  blackness  swept  over  his  shoulders.  His 
harness  was  splashed  with  mud,  and  the  blood  on  his 
heavy  spur  told  that  he  had  journeyed  last  that  day. 
Hi-  armor  was  coal  black,  and  the  slightest  motion  of  the 
body  gave  rise  to  ten  thousand  brilliant  coruscations,  as 
tla-  light  fell  on  the  man}'  reflecting  mobile  scales,  lie 
stood  for  a  moment,  as  if  undecided,  and  then  advanced 
with  the  ease  of  a  courtier,  bowing  gracefully  to  the  com- 


MONTAG   S     SECOND     STORY.  327 


pany,  and  spoke  to  Konigsgrab,  whom  he  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  distinguishing  as  the  host. 

•'  I  pr'ythee,"  he  said,  "  excuse  an  errant  knight,  my 
good  host ;  an  angry  storm,  a  dark  night,  and  the  many 
bright  lights  which  flash  from  your  noble  castle,  have 
determined  me  to  crave  the  boon  of  hospitality — a  boon 
generally  granted  to  one  of  my  spurs,  and  which  I  know 
you  will  not  refuse  ;  for  methinks  thou  hast  been  a  knight, 
and  hast  couched  a  spear."  These  words  were  spoken  in 
a  bold,  off-hand  manner,  and  made  a  favorable  impression 
on  all. 

"  True,  Sir  Knight,"  replied  the  dark-browed  Konigs- 
grab, "  thou  speakest  what  all  who  know  me  say ;  my 
lance  7ias  gleamed  in  some  fields,  and  the  name  of  Konigs- 
grab is  not  unknown.  But  I  forget — I  bid  you  welcome, 
Sir  Knight,  to  whatever  comfort  my  poor  castle  can  offer. 
And  now  unlock  your  visor,  lay  aside  sword  and  helmet, 
and  aid  in  draining  the  wine-cup." 

The  young  knight  did  as  he  was  bid.  He  unbuckled 
his  heavy  sword,  and  tossed  it  carelessly  in  a  corner.  He 
next  took  his  helmet  from  his  head,  and,  raising  back  from 
his  snow-white  forehead  a  mass  of  chestnut  curls,  he 
turned  again  smilingly  toward  the  company.  What  a 
noble  face  and  royal  head  was  there  presented  !  The  soft, 
downy  moustache  of  early  manhood  just  shaded  his  lip, 
and  the  clear  white,  mantling  skin  resembled  more  attri- 
butes of  a  "  gentle  ladye"  than  of  a  "  gallant  knighte." 
As  Konigsgrab  gazed  admiringly  into  that  girlish  yet 
manly  face,  he  suddenly  gave  a  quick  and  nervous  start, 


MO  NT  Ad's    SECOND    STORY. 


gazing  ;it  the  sank'  time  more  intently  at  the  features  of 
the  3  oung  Btranger  knight. 

•■ '  /','-  iii  .'  'tis  h  .'"  be  murmured;  but  the  company 
heard  not  bis  words,  nor  noticed  bis  perturbed  manner. 
The  young  knight,  however,  gave  one  quick,  short  glance 
toward   his    host,  and    then   mingled    sociably  with    the 

throng.  Ourr  more  the  wine-cup  passed  freely,  and  song 
and  jest  enlivened  the  festive  hour.  The  hold  and  manly 
tones  oi'  the  young  knight  rang  loud  and  musically;  and 
whenever  he  spoke  or  sang  he  gained  every  ear.  He  ever 
had  for  all  a  pleasant  word,  and  a  song  he  gave  whenever 
requested.  Occasionally,  the  young  knight  would  address 
some  word  to  his  host,  who,  singularly  enough,  heard  him 
not  until  his  attention  had  been  twice  called.  It  was 
very  plain  that  a  new  train  of  thought — one  more  conge- 
nial with  his  usual  self — had  been  awakened  in  Konigs- 
grab's  bosom.  It  was  a  gloomy,  saddened  chord  that  was 
awakened,  and  its  touch  gave  back  darksome,  dull  echoes. 
The  storm  still  continued  to  rage  frantically  without, 
and  the  winds  sang  more  mournfully  than  ever.  The 
night  wore  away,  and  the  small  ''hours  ayant  the  twal" 
warned  all  to  break  from  the  feast  and  retire;  for  the 
remaining  space  of  darkness,  before  the  sun  should  shine 
once  more,  was  short.  An  ominous  frown,  for  some  time 
gathering,  now  settled  over  the  grim  face  of  Konigsgrab. 
The  Beldom-worn  or  seldom-seen  benign  and  joyous  coun- 
tenance  which  was  observable  on  his  face  at  the  com- 
mencement  of  the  banquet,  had  now  passed  wholly  away. 
The  murderous-looking  stolidity  which  generally  charac- 


montag's   second   story.  329 


terized  the  man  now  claimed  his  countenance  as  long- 
inhabited  and  undisputed  territory. 

One  by  one  the  guests  departed,  and  one  by  one  the 
brilliant  lights  in  the  hall  were  extinguished.  Still  the 
young  knight  lingered  with  the  last,  and  seemed  loth  to 
depart.  More  than  once  had  his  keen  hazel  eye  burnt 
brightly  as  it  fell  aud  rested  for  a  moment  or  so  on  his 
darkly-frowning  host,  Konigsgrab. 

"  Thou  hadst  a  son,  Sir  Konigsgrab  ?"  he  suddenly  ex- 
claimed, advancing  toward  his  host,  as  the  latter  turned 
slightly  and  half  impatiently  toward  him.  Konigsgrab's 
countenance  grew  as  black  as  the  night  which  outside 
glowered  down  upon  his  gloomy  castle.  "  And  who  gave 
you  the  information,  Sir  Knight  f '  he  almost  hissed. 

The  young  man  retained  his  complete  self-possession,  as 
he  replied  very  distinctly,  "  I  did  know  Hermann  well ; 
but — my  good  host — he  is  your  son  no  longer — he  is 
dead." 

"  Dead  /"  exclaimed  the  old  Baron  ;  "  and  I  am  glad  of 
it  /"  he  continued,  aside.  This  remark,  though  cautiously 
made,  was  overheard ;  a  slight  sneer  curled  the  lip  of  the 
young  knight.  "  And  how  and  why  did  he  die,  Sir 
Knight  ?"  "  Another  time,  my  good  host,  another  time  ! 
The  story  is  long  and  tedious ;  yes,  I  must  be  frank. 
But  should  you  wish  it,  to-morrow  you  shall  listen  to  the 
minutest  recital  of  the  story.  The  truth  is,  I  am  weary, 
my  horse  has  travelled  far  this " 

"  Not  another  word,  Sir  Knight !  excuse  my  seeming 
neglect  of  you.  You  must  be  indeed  weary,  to  have 
ridden  as  you  have  this  day." 


130  mont  Ac's    SECON  D    S  rOB  5  . 


••  It  is  nothing,  m\  good  host,  and — but  I  am  at  your 
Bervice."  "  1  am  Borry,  very  sorry,  my  good  Sir  Knight/' 
returned  Konigsgrab,  after  a  pause  of  a  minute  or  two, 
while  a  Bhadow  of  scheming  deviltry  flitted  across  bis 
countenance.  "  I  am  Borry  to  lie  compelled  to  place  you 
tor  the  remainder  of  the  night,  in  a  chamber  which  is 
little  fitted  for  your  lordly  repose.  Such  as  it  is,  however, 
you  are  freely  ami  immediately  welcome  to  it.  But,  Sir 
Knight,  it  is  haunted  /"  The  young  knighl  gave  a  slight 
start,  while  a  smile  played  rapidly  over  his  face.  In  an 
instant,  however,  he  replied,  perfectly  at  ease,  "All  the 
hetter.  my  good  host,  for,  in  that  case,  I  shall  have  com- 
pant/,  to  which  I  am  always  accustomed  in  the  tented 
field:"  and  he  cast  a  sharp  glance  toward  his  host.  "  Only 
1  will  t<il:'  in//  trusty  stn>r>l  along,  my  lord"  he  continued. 
Snatching  an  earthen  oil  lam})  rather  rudely,  Konigsgrab, 
evidently  the  creature  of  some  deep  emotion,  simply  mut- 
tered, as  hi'  did  so,  "  In  this  direction,  Sir  Knight!"  The 
heavy  oaken  staircase  was  quickly  ascended — the  dark 
and  dreaded  corridor  was  trod,  and  Konigsgrab  halted 
suddenly  before  a  tall  massive  door,  covered  over  with 
dust  and  cobwebs,  and  which  apparently  had  not  grated 
on  its  hinges  for  many  long  years. 

••  It  is  here,  Sir  Knight,"  he  said,  giving  the  young 
knight  the  small  lamp,  while  Konigsgrab  busied  himself 
in  adjusting  the  key  in  the  lock.  A  casual  glance  at  this 
key,  revealed  to  the  young  man,  on  it.  a  small  spot  of 
deep  red  />/<»,>/.  lie  thought  it  strange,  hut  said  nothing. 
The  door  moved  hack,  and  almost  pushing  his  guest  inside 
the   dreaded    apartment,    Konigsgrab  drew  the   door   to 


montag's   second   story.  331 


again,  and  muttered  "  Good-night."  The  door  closed 
with  a  sharp  click ;  stepping  hastily  to  it,  the  young 
man  saw  the  iron  bolt,  well  shot,  and  firmly  lodged 
in  the  socket,  in  the  stone  encasing.  He  was  locked  in  ! 
Smiling  scornfully,  he  listened  a  moment  to  the  retreating 
footfalls  of  Konigsgrab  now  dying  away  in  the  distance, 
and  unheeding  everything  around  him,  he  cast  himself 
into  a  chair,  and  fell  into  a  train  of  thought.  It  lasted 
but  a  moment.  Arising  from  his  seat,  he  leisurely  paced 
the  chamber.  "  And  is  this  the  old  castle,"  he  muttered, 
"  where,  several  long  years  ago,  I  felt  all  the  bitterness  of 
humbled  boyish  pride  ?  And  is  my  worthy  host — my 
own — no — I  will  not  call  the  name,  for  his  son  is  dead 
to  him !  a}-,  fully  dead,  by  every  tie  which  binds  pa- 
rents to  child  !  And  this  is  the  Goblin  Chamber,  eh  ?  of 
which  so  much  is  said ;  and — I  stand  this  night  unawed, 
within  the  shadow  of  its  heavy  wainscotting !"  He 
paused,  for  he  thought  he  heard  a  soft  and  plaintive  sigh, 
issuing,  it  seemed,  from  the  very  ceiling  of  the  room. 
So  soft  and  gentle  it  was,  that  it  appeared  more  like  the 
last  futile  struggle  of  an  exhausted  breeze.  "  Hist !"  ex- 
claimed the  knight,  as  the  ambiguous  sound  fell  on  his 
ear.  "  Methought  some  sound,  unusual,  smote  my  ear, 
but  my  imagination  is  at  work,  my  brain  is  excited,  and 
no  wonder,  distorted  fancyings  fill  my  mind  !  Oh  !  mother, 
dear,  dear  mother,  where,  where  art  thou  ?" 

"High  above  this  paltry  world — freed  from  all  cares — in 
heaven,"  said  a  deep,  low,  sepulchral  voice,  coming  from 
the  centre  of  the  ceiling.  A  holy  awe  spread  over  the 
young  man;   he  first  motioned  toward   his  good  sword, 


MONTAG    S    SEOON  D    STOK  Y. 


fearing  foul  play — l>ut  the  outstretched  arm  dropped 
powerless.  The  lighl  in  his  chamber  grew  dim,  and 
burned  with  a  dull,  unsteady,  blue  flame.  The  storm 
increased  in  fury  without,  and  ten  thousand  demons 
seemed  to  be  gibbering  in  the  air. 

••It'  thou  art  an  evil  one,"  spoke  the  young  knight, 
slowly  and  distinctly,  "  speak — and  Bay,  if,  byword  or 
deed,  I  have  ever  harmed  thee.  If  from  the  upper,  celes- 
tial regions,  oh!  mysterious  Power!  1  bow  in  thy  presence, 
and  await  thy  word." 

••  Hermann!"  whispered  the  soft,  low,  sepulchral  tone 
again,  "lam  thy  mother's  shade /" 

••  Great  God!"  exclaimed  the  young  knight,  quivering 
with  excitement.  "  If  thou  canst — then,  dear,  sainted 
mother — show  thyself  in  material  shape." 

A  thunder-stroke  shook  the  strong  castle  to  its  basis; 
and  the  lurid,  sulphurous  flash,  shone  around  the  old  gray 
walls,  lighting  up  every  wild  gorge,  and  gleaming  fearfully 
on  every  neighboring  mountain  crag.  The  young  knight 
instinctively  recoiled  from  the  shock  ;  but,  recovering  him- 
self,  he  gazed  confusedly  around  him.  The  chamber  was 
inky  dark — yet  in  the  very  centre  of  the  ceiling  above,  a 
bloodr^red  hand  glowed  on  the  wall. 

"  Thou  .sees/  thy  moth  r's  hand,  Hermann  !  By  it  many 
],,,,-,  died .' — bvi  tin/  mother  died  />;/  <i  bloodier  hind !  Look, 
Hermann,  /no/,-.'"  Another  peal  of  terrific  thunder! 
mid  then  a  flash  of  ghastly  lightning!  The  room  was 
once  again  illumined,  but  now  with  a  clear,  roseate  glow 
— something  unearthly — as  if  from  heaven.  As  soon  as 
hi-  eyes  had  become  accustomed  to  the  light,  the  young 


montag's   second   story. 


knight  saw,  standing  directly  under  the  ceiling  where  the 
hand  had  appeared,  nothing  less  than  the  image  of  his 
sainted  mother.  Still  as  death — motionless  as  the  sculp- 
tured marble — remained  the  figure.  The  features  were 
perfectly  distinct,  though  they  were  covered  over  with  a 
thin,  supernatural  gauze — in  which,  in  fact,  the  entire 
figure  was  enveloped.  A  holy  light  seemed  to  hang  around 
the  spectre,  and  shed  over  it  an  angelic  luminousness. 
Steadfastly  gazing  on  the  fixed  eye  of  young  Hermann, 
the  spectre  moved  its  trembling  lips,  and  thus  spoke  : — 

"  Hermann,  I  come  for  thee — and  for  thy  father,  Kon- 
igsgrab !  Start  not !  'Tis  so  ordained  by  Him,  my  son, 
who  rules  land  and  sea,  and  who  governs  likewise  us,  the 
inhabitants  of  an  unearthly  world  !  But  before  the  final 
acomplishment  of  my  terrestrial  visit,  let  me  tell  thee  a 
brief  tale. 

"  I  was  the  first,  my  son,  to  honor  Konigsgrab's  bed. 
I  soon  found  out  the  demon  with  whom  I  had  to  deal. 
Just  seven  years  after  you  blessed  our  marriage,  Konigs- 
grab,  one  night,  coming  in  from  an  unsuccessful  foray 
against  a  neighboring  baron,  bore  the  evident  marks  of 
anger  and  dissatisfaction  on  his  face.  At  some  trivial 
remark — one  of  loving  sympathy — from  me,  he  flew  into 
a  fearful  rage,  and  with  his  own  husband's  hand  he  thrust 
the  fatal  dagger  through  my  heart.  Without  a  groan  I 
fell  and  died — and  joined  the  band  of  unseen  spirits, 
hovering  everywhere.  My  spirit-part  lived  ;  and,  in  due 
course  of  time,  I  saw  Konigsgrab  wed  nine  other  wives, 
each  of  whom  breathed  her  last  in  life-blood  let  out  by 
the  demon's — thy  father's — dark,  bloody  hand.    'Twas  all 


",:;i  montag's   seoon  i>  story. 


beneath  my  gaze.  This  chamberi  our  nuptial  chamber! — 
wherein  thou,  my  dear  Hermann,  wasl  horn — I  haunted 
with  niv  presence,  and — my  presence  was  death  to  <ill !  On 
the  foreheads  of  those  slain  1  placed  my  bloody  signet.  So 
it  was  ordered;  and  so  it  shall  be  until  m\  death-bearing 
hand  Bhall  be  laid  on  the  forehead  of  one!  Until  that 
time  1  Bhall  linger  on  earth  in  spiritual  shape.  But  that 
time,  appointed  by  an  ever-wise  Fountain  Head  and  Law- 
giver, is  near,  and  the  moments  wax  on  when  the  end  of 
a  bloody  drama  will  be  reached!  Now.  come,  Hermann, 
and  look  upon  the  doings  of  thy  dark  father,  Konigsgrab !" 
ll-bound,  the  young  knight  followed  the  smoothly- 
eliding  figure  as  it  slid  across  the  room,  and  halted  before 
the  hare  wall.  A  touch  of  the  goblin  finger,  and  an  im- 
mense ponderous  stone  Mock  swung  slowly  back.  Her- 
mann started  affrighted,  and  then  gazed  again  at  the  sight 
presented. 

I  'ome  and  look,  Hermann!"  so  spoke  his  ghost-mother. 

Drawing  near  again,  the  young  knight  gazed  long  and 
aw. '-stricken  into  the  secrets  of  that  hidden  chamber. 
Piled  in  regular  succession,  one  above  the  other,  with  the 
murderous  dagger-marks  plainly  showing  in  the  left 
breast,  were  the  victims  of  Konigsgrab's  hellish  crimes. 
The  flesh  was  dropping  in  rotten  strips  from  the  bones ; 
the  teeth  had  fallen  out.  and  the  hair  had  disappeared: 
yet  plainly  could  he  seen  the  dagger's  thrust,  and  the  cold 
blood  clotted  around  the  lips  of  the  gaping  wound.  At 
the  bottom  of  the  ghastly  pile,  young  Hermann  recognised 
hi-    mother's    form.     Turning    toward    the   spectre,    the 

semblance  was  perfect. 


MONTAG   S     SECOND     STORY. 


"  Now,  Hermann/'  lowly  whispered  the  angelic  goblin, 
"  the  time  draws  near — the  murderer  must  soon  join  the 
murdered.  The  blood  of  these  victims  calls  loudly  for 
vengeance  !  I  know  a  spell — a  charm  he  cannot  resist — 
'tis  given  me  from  above.     Hark  !  and  hear  it  well." 

For  a  moment  all  was  as  still  as  death,  and  then  the 
faint  and  silvery  chimings,  as  of  some  unearthly  bell, 
sounded  musically  in  the  air.  Again  and  again  its  gentle 
summons  echoed  through  the  apartment,  and  once  again 
all  was  still  except  the  fierce  tempest  roaring  without. 
Scarcely  had  the  fairy  bell  ceased  its  gentle  reverbera- 
tions, when  a  heavy  footfall  sounded  hastily  without 
along  the  dark  corridor;  in  another  moment  the  huge 
oaken  door  of  the  Goblin  Chamber  was  hurled  open. 
Revealed  by  the  ghastly  glare  of  supernatural  light,  there 
stood  the  horror-stricken  Konigsgrab !  every  feature  fear- 
fully contorted  with  direst  dread — his  whole  being,  com- 
pletely metamorphosed ! 

"  Who  calls  ?  ivho  rang  THAT  bell  f '  he  gasped.  "  My 
God !  my  God !"  he  cried  frantically,  as  his  starting  eyes 
fell  on  the  veiled  figure,  and,  tumbling  headlong  into  the 
room,  he  fell  at  the  feet  of  his  spectre  wife.  Another 
instant,  and  the  blood-red  hand  seared  his  brow.  One 
wild  shriek,  and  the  soul  of  Konigsgrab  mingled  with  the 
howling  wind  without. 

"  Come,  Hermann !  come !  'tis  all  fulfilled !  Now, 
bogles,  work  your  will !  'Tis  ended  !"  A  mighty  thun- 
der-peal echoed  for  miles  around ;  a  lurid  gleam  of  light- 
ning lit  up  the  surrounding  chaos;  and  amid  the  shrieks 
of  men  and    the  gibbering  of  devils,  the  old   castle  of 


montag's  second  story 


Konigsgrab  passed  away  ;  not  a  soul  was  left  alive  within 
it-  walls;  ami  m>t  one  Btone  remained  upon  another. 

For  centuries  after — to  this  day,  in  fact — on  cold,  raw, 
stormv  nights,  myriads  of  phantom  lights  can  be  seen  glid- 
ing to  and  fro  on  the  rugged  mountain  top  on  the  Rhine, 
on  which  stood  the  old  castle  The  peasants,  over  their 
brattenberger,  assert  that  these  arc  the  ghosts  of  Kbnigs- 
grab's  retainers,  holding  th  ir  last  banquet  on  earth  ! 

So  ended  Meinherr.  A  death-like  silence  followed  the 
recital  of  the  story.  It  was  at  length  broken  by  S.,  thus: 
••  Meinherr.  you  say  the  ruins  of  KSnigsgrab's  castle  can 
bt  seen  on  the  Rhine,  wen  to  this  day?" 

■■  Jal  so T  replied  the  unsuspecting  "  Huzzar." 
'•  Ah  !"  returned  S.,  with  a  knowing  wink  to  the  others; 
"how  then,  Meinherr,  is  it  that  not  one  stone  was  left  upon 

anotht  r  ?" 

Meinherr's  face  was  as  calm  as  ever  as  he  replied  in  a 
moment,  "  Aber,  das  1st  nichts!  the  stones  are  there  seat- 
tend  around — but  not  one  on  another!     Ach,  mein  Gott /" 

-  's  face  reddened,  as  we  laughed  at  Meinherr's  retort. 

"  And  what  did  become  of  the  castle,  Montag?  Why 
did  it  come  to  such  a  wreck  in  a  breath,  as  it  were?" 
asked  Esslinger,  watching  narrowly  Meinherr's  lace. 

"  Why,  lightning  struck  it,  of  course — Gott  in  himmel!" 
returned  the  ever  ready  "  Huzzar,"  as  he  twirled  his  gray 
moustache.     Good  for  you,  my  good  old  Meinherr! 

But  now  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

T  this  point  I  have  deemed  it  necessary  to  give 
a  short  sketch  of  Jerusalem,  that  sketch  to  em- 
brace all  that  might  be  desired  by  the  tourist,  or 
reader,  and  which  might  particularly  afford  to 
travellers  some  information,  relative  to  what  is  to  be  seen 
in  Jerusalem,  giving  also,  a  condensed  history  of  the  vari- 
ous objects  of  wonder  in  the  Holy  City ;  also,  a  glance  at 
the  state  of  society,  the  different  religious  sects,  &c,  &c. 
This  work  has  been  done  hastily,  yet  no  excuse  is  offered 
for  it,  on  this  account.  If  it  ever  should  lighten  the  trou- 
bles of  any  tourist,  who  should  traverse  these  far-away 
regions,  I  should  feel  that  it  has  not  been  written  in  vain. 

ANCIENT     TOPOGRAPHY. 

In  studying  the  ancient  topography  of  the  city  of 
Jerusalem,  it  is  best,  I  take  it,  to  consider  first,  each  of 
the  separate  hills,  on  which,  like  ancient  Rome,  this 
antique  town  was  then  wholly,  as  now  partially,  built. 
Like  the  old  "  mistress  of  the  world,"  too,  Jerusalem  had 
her  seven  hills ;  Mt.  Zion,  Ophel,  Mt.  Moriah,  Akra, 
Bezetha,  Mt,  Olivet,  and  the  Hill  of  Evil  Counsel.  A 
brief  notice  of  each  of  these  hills  would  not  be  inappro- 

22  (337) 


338  1111.1.     OF     F.  VII.     col    N  SKI.. 


priate,  as  the  reader  or  tin-  tourist,  would  thus  be  enabled 
to  understand  nunc  fully,  and  appreciate  better,  the 
moth  rn  city  and  its  topography.  Commencing  then  in 
inverse  order,  1  shall  speak,  and  quite  cursorily,  fust  of 

the  /////  of  Evil  ( '(must  I. 

On  this  hill  arc  the  so-called  ruins  of  a  country-house, 
once  belonging  to  Caiaphas,  the  High  Priest,  of  which  I 
have  spoken  in  the  pages  of  my  Journal.  In  this  house, 
•  -<>  the\  say."  the  enemies  of  our  Lord  gathered  in  close 
conclave,  to  lay  schemes  for  His  capture  and  murder! 
If  the  tradition  has  any  truth  in  it,  the  interesting  facts 
revealed  by  it  were  kept  a  long  time  from  a  curious 
world,  for  fourteen  hundred  years  passed  away,  before 
the  site  of  this  house  was  found  out  and  definitely  deter- 
mined on.  1  think  it  was  in  the  fifteenth  century,  that 
the  hill  was  first  known  by  the  name  of  that  of  Evil 
<  lounsel.  How  much  foundation  there  is  for  believing  the 
above  tradition,  I  cannot  say.  It  is  interestingly  pleasant, 
while  looking  at  the  spot  in  question,  to  gulp  down  with 
a  slight  grimace,  legend,  house,  hill,  Caiaphas  and  all, 
yet  Bober  truth  comes  in  for  an  audience  in  the  council 
chamber  of  our  minds,  and  generally  ridicules  the  whole 
affair,  and  to  such  an  extent,  that  we  believe  nothing  at 
all  concerning  it;  one  of  our  party  going  so  far  as  to  say, 
without  thinking,  of  course)  that  he,  for  his  part,  did  not 
beli«-ve  there  was  ever  a  Caiaphas!  This  house,  or  its 
ruin.-,  and  the  tree  of  Judas,  formerly  referred  to  and 
commi  oted  on,  present  the  chief  features  of  interest,  as 
far  ae  a  visit  is  concerned  to  this  hill.  The  parapet  on 
the   southern    boundary  of    Mt.  Zion,  is    the   best  stand- 


BEZETHA.  339 


point  from  which  it  can  be  viewed,  as  it  is  situated 
directly  opposite  the  wall.  The  hill  is  south  of  Hinnom, 
and  on  the  north,  its  rising  cliffs  have  a  singularly  wild 
and  romantic  look,  while  from  their  summit,  a  gorgeous 
prospect  is  to  be  had. 

I  shall  next  notice  Bezetha,  of  which  the  most  of  our 
knowledge  is  derived  from  Josephus.  We  find  no  men- 
tion made  of  it  at  all,  in  the  Holy  Book,  nor  any  allusion 
to  any  hill  which  might  be  identified  with  the  one  under 
consideration. 

At  the  time  of  the  crucifixion,  Bezetha  was  well  covered 
with  houses — in  fact,  was  densely  populated.  It  was 
enclosed  about  ten  years  after  the  crucifixion — perhaps 
sooner — and  taken  into  the  city  proper.  This  was  done 
by  Herod  Agrippa,  although  the  city  on  this  hill  was 
most  splendid  under  the  reign  of  the  Great  Herod.  The 
fact  of  this  hill  being  left  out  of  the  city  after  the  cruci- 
fixion, and  not  included  in  it  until  eight  years  following 
that  event,  seems,  in  Porter's  opinion,  to  weigh  heavily 
counter  to  the  opinion  of  the  authenticity  of  the  Church 
of  the  Sepulchre.  This  latter  was  without  the  city — 
taking  it  for  granted  that  the  church  and  Golgotha  are 
synonymous  sites,  which  all  believers  in  the  genuineness 
of  the  church  uphold — yet  it  is  now  in  the  middle  of  the 
city,  and  Bezetha  was  not  within  the  walls  until  eight 
years  after  the  Death  on  the  Cross ! 

"  From  the  ridge  on  Scopus,  above  the  tombs  of  the 
kings,  the  dome  of  the  great  mosk  is  just  seen  over  the 
hill ;  but  when  we  begin  to  descend,  it  is  soon  wholly 
shut  out  from  view."     From  this  we    may  readily  infer 


340  BEZETHA. 

thai  Bezetha  is  a  high  bill,  and  from  mention  being  made 
of  Scopus,  as  a  point  from  which  the  view  of  the  Mosk 
of  Omar  is  obstructed  by  the  bill,  we  can  gain  some 
definite  idea  of  the  locality  of  Bezetha.     We  must  infer 

that  it  is  north  of  the  old  site  of  Antonia  (a  portion  of 
the  llaram.  anciently  considered),  or  of  the  present 
governor's  house,  which  is  at  the  north-west  corner  of 
the  Large  Temple  enclosure.  There  is  a  considerable  hill 
here,  ami  the  ([notation  1  have  given  is  true  to  the  letter. 
This,  tin  an  must  he  the  old  Bezetha — there  can  be  no 
reasonable  doubt  to  the  contrary. 

Josephus  says,  "The  hill  Bezetha  was  separated  from 
Antonia;  and,  being  the  highest  of  all,  it  was  built  up 
adjoining  to  a  part  of  the  new  city,  and  alone  oversha- 
dowed the  Temple  on  the  north The  city 

overflowing  with  inhabitants  gradually  crept  beyond  the 
walls;  and  the  people,  incorporating  with  the  city  the 
quarter  north  of  the  Temple  close  to  the  hill,  made  a  con- 
siderable advance,  insomuch  that  a  fourth  hill,  which  is 
called  Bezetha,  was  also  surrounded  with  habitations.  It 
lay  over  against  Antonia,  from  which  it  was  separated  by 
a  d<cp  fosse,  purposely  excavated  to  cut  off  the  communi- 
cation between  the  hill  and  the  foundations  of  Antonia, 
that  they  mighl  be  at  one-  less  easy  of  access,  and  more 
elevated.  And  thus  the  depth  of  the  fosse  added  greatly 
to  the  height  of  the  towers.  This  new-built  part  is  called 
in  our  language  Bezetha,  which,  being  interpreted  in  the 
Greek  tongue,  would  be  Gcenopolis — -New  City.'" 

Bezetha  may  be  stated   in  a  few  words  to  be  abroad, 
irregular  rocky  ridge  running  north-west  or  north-by-west 


MOUNT    OF    OLIVES.  341 


from  the  Temple  area.  Its  mean  breadth  is  six  or  seven 
hundred  yards ;  its  -extreme  length  one  thousand  yards. 
The  mosk  of  the  Dervishes  stands  on  this  ridge,  and  on 
the  exact  site,  they  say,  of  Herod's  proud  castle.  The 
Pool  of  Bethesda  also  is  near  the  hill ;  it  stands,  I  think, 
on  the  north-east.  Bezetha  is  now  covered  over  thickly 
with  luxuriant  olives,  and  forms  one  of  the  most  pleasant 
rambles  in  or  around  Jerusalem. 

The  Mount  of  Olives. — Of  course,  with  this  sacred 
mountain  are  connected  the  most  glowing  and  interesting, 
and  yet  the  most  terrible  and  gloomy  associations  of  the 
grand  Biblical  Drama.  It  is  the  first  object  of  sacred 
wonder  that  arises  on  our  mind,  and  it  is  actually  the 
first  that  rises  on  our  physical  view.  Coming  in  from  the 
sea  by  the  Jaffa  Gate,  the  long,  green,  gentle  olive-covered 
slope  of  Mount  Olivet  is  gazed  at  with  holy  feelings  many 
minutes  before  we  enter  the  city  walls.  With  this  sacred 
slope  are  connected  so  many  thrilling,  connecting  ties  and 
events  in  the  life  of  the  humble  Nazarene,  that  we  cannot 
satisfy  the  cravings  of  our  mind  by  a  second,  nor  by  a 
third,  nor  yet  by  a  half-dozen  visits  to  the  spot. 

"  No  name  in  Scripture  calls  up  associations  at  once  so 
sacred  and  so  pleasing  as  that  of  Olivet.  The  '  Mount'  is 
so  intimately  connected  with  the  private,  the  devotional 
life  of  the  Saviour,  that  we  read  of  it  and  look  at  it  with 
feelings  of  deepest  interest  and  affection.  Here  He  often 
sat  with  His  disciples,  telling  them  of  wondrous  events 
yet  to  come ;  of  the  destruction  of  the  Holy  City,  of  the 
sufferings,  the  persecutions,  and  the  final  triumph  of  His 
followers  (Matt.  xxiv.).     Here  He  gave  them  the  beauti- 


;  i  2  MOT    NT     MO  1U  A  II. 


ful  parables  of  the  'Ten  Virgins,'  and  the  '  Five  Talents' 
Mm.  xxv.).  Here  He  was  wonl  to  retire  on  each  eve- 
ning for  meditation  and  prayer,  and  rest  of  body,  when 
weary  and  harassed  by  the  Labors  and  trials  of  the  day 
(Luke  xxi.  37).  And  here  He  came  on  the  night  of  His 
betrayal  to  utter  that  wonderful  prayer,  '0,  My  Father. 
if  it  be  possible,  lei  this  cup  pass  from  me:  wrrrtlichss, 
not  as  Twillfbut  as  Thou  witt  (Matt.  xxvi.  30).  And 
when  the  cup  of  God's  wrath  had  been  drunk,  and  death 
and  the  grave  conquered,  He  led  His  disciples  out  again 
over  Olivet,  as  tar  as  to  Bethany,  and,  after  a  parting 
blessing,  ascended  to  heaven  (Luke  xxiv.  50,51;  Acts 
i.  12)." 

From  the  Mount  of  Olives  a  most  enchanting  as  well 
as  most  instructive  view  of  Jerusalem  and  its  environs  is 
to  be  had.  1  have  spoken  of  this  more  particularly  in  my 
Journal.     I  beg  leave  to  refer  the  reader  to  it. 

Mount  Moriah  is  one  of  the  most  sacred  of  the  hills  on 
which  ancient  Jerusalem  was  built.  It  was  up  to  this 
mountain  that  Abraham  led  Isaac  to  be  sacrificed — an 
offering  to  the  Lord;  and  it  was  on  this  sacred  spot 
that  the  covenant  between  God  and  man  was  solemnized 
(Genesis  xxii.  9-18).  1  may  as  well  state  here  that  there 
are  some  who  deny  that  Moriah,  at  Jerusalem,  was  the 

ne  of  the  intended  sacrifice  of  Isaac.  Among  them  is 
Mr.  Stanley;  lie  thinks  the  mountain  was  Gerizim,  in  the 
Plain  of  .Sharon,  lint  this  does  not  at  all  agree  with 
the  Bible  narrative.  Abraham  could  not  have  made  the 
journey,  in  that  case,  in  three  days. 

Oman,    the  Jebusite,   had    his    threshing-floor,   which 


MOUNT     MORIAH.  343 


David  afterwards  bought  at  an  enormous  price,  on  Mount 
Moriah.  It  was  by  this  threshing-floor  the  angel  stood, 
holding  the  drawn  sword  over  the  devoted  city.  David 
built  an  altar  on  the  site  of  the  threshing-floor,  and  offered 
sacrifices  at  the  time  of  the  threatened  destruction  of  Jeru- 
salem. Mount  Moriah  was  the  site  of  that  ancient  archi- 
tectural wonder  of  the  world — the  gorgeous  Temple  of 
King  Solomon ;  and  on  it  was  afterwards  built  the  almost 
equally  splendid  Mosk  of  Omar.  It  is  useless  to  speak 
of  the  splendors  of  the  Temple,  which  are  so  graphically 
given  in  2  Chronicles. 

The  genuine  Mount  Moriah  originally  stood  in  the  centre 
of  what  is  now  known  as  the  Haram  Area,  and  consisted 
of  a  small  rocky  elevation,  just  large  enough  to  admit  of 
the  erection  of  the  "  altar  and  sanctuary."  Around  this, 
to  admit  of  more  extensive  buildings,  a  platform  of  great 
magnitude  was  raised,  "supported  in  part  by  massive 
walls  of  masonry,  filled  up  internally  with  stones  and 
earth  ;  and  in  part,  towards  the  south,  by  heavy  piers  and 
arches."  This  platform  we  now  recognise  in  the  Haram. 
The  believing  ones  and  the  cognoscenti  say,  that  the  very 
spot  where  the  holy  altar  once  stood  can  now  be  pointed 
unmistakeably  out.  It  is,  they  say,  directly  under  the 
dome  of  Omar's  Mosk,  and  is  the  natural  rock,  which 
existed  there  thirty  centuries  ago.  The  Mosk  of  Omar  is 
called,  on  this  account,  "  Kubbet  es-Sukhrah,"  the  "  Dome 
of  the  Rock." 

The  eastern  side  of  Mount  Moriah,  as  it  breaks  abruptly 
down,  for  a  hundred  and  sixty  feet,  into  the  Valley  of 
Jehoshaphat,  is  romantically  beautiful. 


i  I  !  OPB  EL — A  K  R  A. 


Ophel. — There  is  do  doubt  bul  thai  this  hill  was 
included  in  the  city  at  b  very  earl}  date — as  early  as  two 
centuries  after  Solomon — if  even  it  did  not  form  a  portion 
of  the  bit}   in  thai  wise  monarch's  day.     it  is  nothing 

more,  in  inv  opinion,  discarding  all  egotism,  than  a 
southern  continuation  of  the  ridge  of  Moriah.  It  roaches 
to  the  abrupt  cliff,  overhanging  the  far-famed  Pool  of 
Siloam.  "The  whole  is  now  carefully  cultivated  in  ter- 
races, like  Zion,  and  is  planted  with  olives  and  other  irnit- 
trees.  Its  northern  end,  at  the  Haram-wall,  is  nearly 
one  hundred  feet  lower  than  the  top  of  Moriah;  and 
from  thence  to  its  termination  is  about  five  hundred  and 
twenty  yards;  the  breadth  of  its  summit,  from  brow  to 
brow,  is  about  one  hundred  yards,  near  the  eentre." 

Akba. — From  Josephus  we  gain  all  of  our  knowledge 
concerning  this  hill.  In  his  time  it  was  called,  in  distinc- 
tion to  Zion  or  "  upper  city,"  the  "  lower  city"  or  "  lower 
market."  Zion  and  Akra,  with  the  Tyropseon  valley 
between  them,  were  directly  opposite  each  other ;  and  on 
the  other  side  of  Akra  was  another  valley,  judging  from 
the  words  of  Josephus.  This  other  fosse  he  designates  as 
a  "broad  valley,"  and  it  separated  the  lower  city  from 
the  Temple  on  Mount  Moriah.  It  has  been  thought  from 
this  that  the  ridge  on  which  the  Christian  Quarter  is  now 
built,  and  which  runs  by  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre, 
"  toward  the  western  side  of  the  Haram,"  corresponds  with 
Akra.  The  slopes  of  the  ridge  can  be  readily  recognised 
now  from  several  stand-points  in  Jerusalem,  especially 
from  the  Latin  hostelry,  near  the  Jaffa  Gate.  In  order  to 
connect  Akra  with  the  Temple,  the  "  broad  valley"  was 


AKRA ZION.  345 


filled  up  so  as  to  afford  a  foundation  for  a  road.  This 
connection  was  made  by  what  seems  to  some  a  gate  cor- 
responding to  the  present  "  Cotton  Merchants'  Gate." 

Speaking  of  Akra,  Josephus  says :  "  Over  against  this 
(Akra)  was  a  third  hill,  naturally  lower  than  Akra,  and 
formerly  separated  from  it  by  another  broad  valley.  But 
afterwards,  during  the  sovereignty  of  the  Asmoneans, 
they  threw  earth  into  this  valley,  desiring  to  connect  the 
city  with  the  Temple ;  and  levelling  the  summit  of  Akra, 
they  made  it  lower,  so  that  the  Temple  might  appear 
above  it." 

Another  quotation  from  Josephus,  I  find  in  Porter,  tends 
to  throw  light  on  the  position  of  Akra :  "  In  the  western 
parts  of  the  enclosure  (of  the  temple)  stood  four  gates ; 
one  leading  over  to  the  royal  palace,  the  valley  being 
intercepted  to  form  a  jmssage  ;  two  leading  to  the  suburb ; 
and  the  remaining  one  into  the  city  (Akra),  being  distin- 
guished by  many  steps  down  into  the  valley,  and  from 
this  up  again  upon  the  ascent ;  for  the  city  lay  over 
against  the  Temple  in  the  manner  of  a  theatre." 

Zion. — Finally,  we  come  to  consider  the  largest,  and, 
in  very  many  points,  the  most  important  and  most  inter- 
esting of  the  hills  of  Jerusalem  —  Mt.  Zion !  This 
occupies  the  south-western  section  of  the  city.  On  it 
were  erected  the  first  houses  ever  built  in  the  Holy  City, 
and  it  is  remarkable  as  being  the  scene  of  many  interesting 
events  of  Bible  history.  The  following  condensed  history 
of  Mt.  Zion,  from  the  pen  of  a  rich  and  reliable  author, 
will  be  read  with  much  interest : — 

"  Of  the  several  hills  on  which  Jerusalem  was  built,  Zion 


346  zion. 

w  as  the  largest,  and  in  many  respects  the  most  interesting. 

It  occupies  the  whole  Bouth-western  section  of  the  ancient 
site,  extending  considerably  farther  south  than  the  opposite 
ridge  of  Moriah  and  Ophel.     The  western  and  southern 
Bides    rise    abruptly   from    the    bed    of   the    Valley    of 
Hinnoni.  and  appear  to  have  originally  consisted  of  a  series 
oi'  rocky  precipices  rising  one  above  another  like  huge 
stairs;   but  now  they  are  partially  covered  with  loose  soil 
and  the  debris   of  buildings  which  time  has  thrown  down 
from    above.     The   southern  brow  of   Zion    is   bold   and 
prominent;  and  its  position,  separated  from  other  heights 
and   surrounded   by  deep  valleys,   makes  it  seem  loftier 
than  any  other  point  in  the  city,  though  it  is  in  reality 
lower  than  the  ground  at  the  north-west  corner  of  the 
wall.      The    elevation    of  the   hill   above  the   Valley   of 
Hinnoni.  at    the   point  where  it  bends  westward,  is  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  ;  and  above  the  Kidron,  at  En- 
Rogel,  three  hundred  feet.     On  the  south-east,  Zion  slopes 
down   in   a  series  of  cultivated  terraces,    steeply,  though 
not  abruptly,  to  the  site  of  the  "King's  Gardens,"  where 
Hinnoni,  the    Tyropaeon,  and   the    Kidron  unite.     Here 
and    around    to    the    south    the    whole    declivities    are 
sprinkled  with  olive  trees,  which  grow  luxuriantly  among 
the  narrow  strips  of  corn.     The  scene  cannot  but  recall 
tie-  words  of  Micah  the  Morasthite,   spoken  twenty-six 
centuries   ago: — "Zion   shall   be   ploughed  like  a  field" 
(Jer.  xx vi.  18).     On  the  east  the  descent  to  the  Tyropa3on 
is  ai    first  gradual,  but  as  we  proceed  northward  to  the 
modern  wall  it  becomes  much  steeper;  and  about  three 
hundred  yards  within  the  wall,  directly  facing  the  south- 


zion.  347 

west  angle  of  the  Haram,  there  is  a  precipice  of  naked 
rock  from  twenty  to  thirty  feet  high.  The  declivity  is 
here  encumbered  with  heaps  of  filth  and  rubbish,  -thickly 
overgrown  in  places  with  the  cactus  or  prickly  pear. 
The  Tyropseon  was  anciently  much  deeper  at  this  point 
than  it  is  now ;  it  has  been  filled  up  by  the  ruins  of  the 
bridge,  the  Temple  wall,  and  the  palaces  of  Zion.  The 
best  view  of  the  eastern  slopes  of  Zion  and  the  southern 
section  of  the  Tyropseon  is  obtained  from  the  top  of  the 
wall  in  descending  from  Zion  Gate  to  the  Dung  Gate. 
I  was  particularly  struck  with  the  interesting  view  before 
me  when  standing  on  a  projecting  angle  of  the  wall  near 
the  place  where  the  aqueduct  from  Solomon's  Pools 
enters  the  city.  Passing  down  from  hence,  I  followed  the 
course  "of  the  aqueduct  for  some  distance ;  and  then  turning 
more  to  the  north,  through  thickets  of  cactus,  I  examined 
the  cliff  above-mentioned,  and  the  whole  declivities  on 
this  side  of  Zion. 

"  The  limits  of  Zion  for  so  far  cannot  be  mistaken ;  on 
the  northern  side,  however,  they  are  very  far  from  being 
so  well  defined.  But  a  careful  study  of  the  topographical 
notices  of  Josephus,  combined  with  an  examination  of  the 
whole  site  of  the  city,  such  as  I  trust  the  reader  has 
already  completed,  can  leave  little  doubt  on  the  mind  as 
to  the  true  boundary  of  Zion  on  the  north.  It  will  not, 
of  course,  be  expected  here  that  I  should  enter  into  any 
lengthened  review  of  the  different  opinions  entertained  by 
writers  regarding  this  section  of  the  Holy  City.  It  is 
enough  to  say  that  I  have  read  them  all ;  that  I  have 
carefully  surveyed  the  ground  on  two  different  occasions 


148  zion. 

— once  since  the  greater  part  of  the  presenl  work  was 
written-,  and  thai  I  have  studied  with  care  the  descrip- 
tions of  JosephuS.  Thus,  while  the  theories  and  facts  of 
Others  have  net  been  overlooked.  I  have  been  able  to 
form  my  conclusions  independent  of  them.  Kind  friends 
will  please  remember,  however,  thai  1  lay  uo  claim  to 
infallibility,  or  anything  approaching  to  it.  I  only  state 
honest  opinions,  which  have  been  honestly  come  by. 

•■  From  the  several  descriptions  and  incidental  notices  of 
Josephus  the  following  facts  may  be  gathered : — That  the 
'Upper  City,'  built  on  Zion,  was  surrounded  by  ravines  5 
that  it  was  separated  from  the  'Lower  City'  (Akra)  by 
a  valley  called  the  TyropSBOn ;  that  upon  a  crest  of  rock 
thirty  cubits  high,  on  the  northern  brow  of  Zion,  stood 
three  great  towers — Hippicus,  Pha<a<';lus.  and  Mariamne; 
that  the  wall  enclosing  the  Upper  City  on  the  north  ran 
by  these  towers  to  a  place  called  the  Xystus,  and  joined 
the  western  wall  of  the  Temple  area ;  that  there  was  a  gate 
in  that  western  wall,  northward  of  this  point  of  junction, 
opening  into  Akra:  that  the  Xystus  was  near  to  and  com- 
manded by  the  west  wall  of  the  Temple  area,  though  not 
united  to  it.  and  that  the  royal  palace  adjoined  and 
overlooked  the  Xystus  on  the  west,  while  it  was  also 
attached  to  the  great  towers  above  mentioned;  and,  lastly, 
that  both  Xystus  and  palace  were  connected  at  their 
southern  end  by  a  bridge  with  the  Temple  area  (see  Jos.  B. 
J.,  v.  4;  vi.  6,  'I;  ii.  1G,  3;  Ant.,  xv.  11,  5).  The  site 
of  the  t « - 1 j  1 1  >1  •  -  area  being  well  known,  and  the  remains  of 
tic-  ancient  bridge  undoubtedly  discovered,  the  positions 
of  the  Xystus  and   the  palace  can  be  seen  at  a  glance. 


zion.  349 

The  former  occupied  the  western  side  of  the  Tyropgeon, 
extending  from  about  the  street  of  David  to  the  remains 
of  the  arch ;  while  the  latter  lay  along  its  western  side, 
covering  the  summit  of  the  hill  quite  to  the  brow  of 
Hinnom ;  and  adjoining  it  on  the  north  were  the  great 
towers  and  walls. 

"  But  Josephus  states  that  Zion  and  Akra  were  built 
*  fronting  each  other,  separated  by  a  valley,  at  which  the 
rows  of  houses  terminated.'  This  valley  must,  in  part 
at  least,  have  bounded  Zion  on  the  north ;  and  yet  it  is 
scarcely  distinguishable  in  the  present  day.  A  long  ridge, 
as  has  already  been  stated,  sweeps  along  the  eastern  side 
of  Hinnom,  extending  from  the  Tomb  of  David  northward 
far  beyond  the  modern  city  wall ;  but  if  we  carefully 
examine  this  ridge  from  the  top  of  the  pasha's  house,  or 
some  commanding  spot  near  the  north-west  angle  of  the 
Haram,  we  distinctly  observe  a  considerable  depression  in 
it,  commencing  at  the  Yafa  Gate  and  running  down 
eastward  in  the  line  of  the  Street  of  David.  And  if  we 
go  to  the  Yafa  Gate  and  walk  down  that  street  we  see 
that  the  ground  rises  abruptly  on  the  right  and  gently  on 
the  left ;  we  are  therefore  in  a  depression  or  valley,  and 
the  northern  end  of  Zion  is  on  our  right.  At  the  Yafa 
Gate  the  traveller  will  also  notice  the  massive  walls  and 
deep  fosse  of  the  citadel.  One  of  the  towers  especially 
claims  attention  from  the  antique  masonry  of  the  lower 
part,  consisting  of  very  large  stones  bevelled  like  those 
of  the  Temple  walls.  Recent  researches  have  shown  that 
this  tower,  as  well  as  that  at  the  north-west  angle  of  the 
citadel,  is  founded  on  a  scarped  rock  which  rises  about 


Z 1 0  N. 

forty  feel  above  the  bottom  of  the  fosse.  This  is  unques- 
tionably thai  '  rocky  crest'  on  which,  Josephus  informs  us, 
the  three  greal  towers  on  the  northern  brow  ofZion  were 
founded.  Here,  then,  are  data  sufficiently  clear  on  which 
to  determine  the  northern  limits  of  /ion. 

"  (  hi  the  summit  of  /ion.  towards  its  western  hrow.  there 
is  a  level  tract  extending  in  Length,  from  the  citadel  to 
the  Tomb  o['  David,  about  six  hundred  yards;  and  in 
breadth,  from  the  city  wall  to  the  eastern  side  of  the 
Armenian  Convent,  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards. 
A  much  larger  space,  however,  was  available  for  building 
purposes,  and  was  at  one  time  densely  occupied.  Now 
not  more  than  one-half  of  this  space  is  enclosed  by  the 
modern  wall,  while  fully  one-third  of  that  enclosed,  is 
taken  up  with  the  barrack-yards,  the  convent  gardens, 
and  the  waste  ground  at  the  lepers'  huts.  All  without  the 
wall,  with  the  exception  of  the  cemeteries,  and  the  clus- 
ter of  houses  round  the  Tomb  of  David,  is  now  cultivated 
in  terraces,  and  thinly  sprinkled  with  olive  trees  (Mic. 
iii.  12). 

•■  /ion  was  the  first  spot  in  Jerusalem  occupied  by  build- 
inns.  Upon  it  stood  the  stronghold  of  the  Jebusites, 
which  so  long  defied  the  Israelites,  and  was  at  last  cap- 
tured by  King  David  (Num.  xiii.  29;  Josh.  xv.  63;  Jud. 
i.  21;  2  Sam.  v.  5—8).  Upon  it  that  monarch  built  his 
palace,  and  there,  for  more  than  a  thousand  years,  the 
kings  and  princes  of  Esrael  lived  and  ruled  (2  Sam.  v.  9, 
&c.).  In  /ion.  too,  was  David  buried,  and  fourteen  of  his 
successors  on  the  throne  were  laid  near  him  in  the  family 
tomb  (1   Kings  ii.  10;  xi. 43;  xiv.  31, &c).    Zion  was  the 


zion.  351 

last  spot  that  held  out,  when  the  Romans,  under  Titus, 
encompassed  the  doomed  city,  when  the  rest  of  Jerusalem 
was  in  ruins ;  when  the  enemy  occupied  the  court  of  the 
prostrate  Temple,  the  remnant  of  the  Jews,  from  the  walls 
of  Zion,  haughtily  refused  the  terms  of  the  conqueror, 
and  perished  in  thousands  around  and  within  the  palace 
of  their  princes. 

"  The  city  which  stood  on  Zion,  was  called  successively 
by  several  names.  It  was  probably  the  Salem  of  Mel- 
chisedec  (comp.  Gen.  xiv.  18,  with  Ps.  lxxvi.  2) ;  then  it 
became  Jehus,  under  the  Jebusites,  so  called  from  a  son 
of  Canaan  (Gen.  x.  16  ;  1  Chron.  xi.  4,  5) ;  then  the 
'City  of  David,'  and  Jerusalem  (2  Sam.  v.  7).  Josephus 
calls  it  the  '  Upper  City,'  adding,  that  it  was  known  also, 
in  his  day,  as  the  '  Upper  Market.' " 

Having  finished  the  ancient  topography  of  Jerusalem, 
in  so  far  as  the  hills  on  which  it  was  built  are  concerned, 
I  shall  next  notice  briefly,  the  three  natural  valleys  sur- 
rounding it  and  [one]  bisecting  it.  The  first,  and  to  me  the 
most  difficult  to  understand,  as  regards  its  exact  course, 
extent,  &c,  &c,  is  the  Tyropason.  Of  this,  as  of  every 
other  place  of  interest  of  ancient  Jerusalem,  Josephus 
gives  the  most  lucid  account.  In  fact,  the  Tyropseon  is 
nowhere  mentioned  in  the  Bible,  and  enters  into  no  de- 
scription of  Jerusalem,  I  think,  more  ancient  than  that 
given  us  by  the  Jewish  historian.  The  "  broad  valley," 
to  which  I  have  referred,  is  no  doubt  synonymous  with 
the  Tyropseon.  He  speaks  of  this  valley  dividing  the 
upper  town  from  the  lower,  and  of  the  valley  which  sepa- 
rates Akra  from  Moriah  ;  that  this  valley  "  extended  to  a 


352  THE     TYROr.KON. 


fountain,  whose  waters  were  suit!  and  copious,"  meaning, 

QO  doubt,  Siloain.  From  that  and  other  landmarks,  Por- 
ter thinks  that  the  beginning  or  bead  of  the  Tyropaon 
was  somewhere  about  the  "northern  brow  of  Zion." 
There  exists  uo  doubt,  but  that  the  Tyropsson  Valley,  in 

those  distant  days,  was  much  deeper  than  it  is  at  present. 
The  accumulated  dust  and  dSbris  of  nearly  two  thousand 
years,  the  decay  of  large  palaces,  and  the  general  ruin 
incident  to  a  fallen  city,  have  done  much  toward  obliter- 
ating the  once  deep  bed  of  the  Tyropseon.  In  fact,  at 
one  point  on  the  street  of  the  Christians,  which  leads  to 
the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre,  from  the  western  part  of 
the  city,  an  excavation  has  revealed  a  chapel,  thirty  feet 
belmc  the  present  surface  of  the  adjoining  street.  This, 
then,  must  be  the  Tyropreon.  Some  have  thought  that 
Mllo,  mentioned  in  2  Sam.  v.  9,  corresponds  to  the  Tyro- 
pseon  ;  but,  it  is  generally  considered,  without  good  reason. 
According  to  Josephus.  this  valley  "separated  Zion  from 
Akra  on  the  north,  and  from  Moriah  and  Ophel  en  the 
east,"  of  course,  sweeping  around  two  sides  of  the  Upper 
City,  which  is  Zion.  Porter  says,  "  commencing  at  the  Yafa 
Gate,  the  Tyroprcon  runs  eastward  for  some  five  hundred 
yards,  and  then  sweeping  around  the  north-east  corner  of 
Zion,  it  turns  southward  between  that  hill  and  Moriah, 
and  continues  about  eight  hundred  yards  further,  till  it 
joins  the  Kidron."  Nevertheless,  all  this  is  far  from 
being  certain;  and  judging  from  Porter's  own  words,  that 
the  "  exact  position  of  the  head  of  the  Tyropoeon  is  one  of 
the  vexed   questions  of  Jerusalem   topography,"  I  con- 


THE     BROOK     KIDRON.  353 


sider  all  we  have  said  of  this,  as  decidedly  admitting 
doubts  as  to  its  validity. 

Of  the  Brook  Kidron  we  have  much  more  definite 
knowledge.  It  runs  along  the  eastern  wall  of  the  Haram, 
and  separates  the  city  from  the  Mount  of  Olives.  The 
whole  length  of  the  brook  from  its  broad  valley  rising 
near  Jerusalem,  to  its  fall  in  the  north-west  corner  of  the 
Dead  Sea,  is  fourteen  miles.  For  over  two  miles  the 
Kidron  is  nothing  more  than  a  large  shallow  valley ;  it 
does  not  deserve  the  name  of  brook  until  after  it  gets 
beyond  the  Pool  of  Siloam.  Throughout  its  course  it 
bears  several  different  names;  by  St.  Saba  it  is  called 
Wacly  en-Rdheb,  which  means  the  "  Monk's  Valley ;"  and 
farther  on,  it  is  known  as  the  "  Valley  of  Fire,"  or  Wacly 
en^Ndr. 

The  first  mention  of  Kidron  that  we  have  in  the  Bible 
is  in  regard  to  David's  flight  from  Absalom  ;  the  23d  verse 
of  the  15th  chapter  2  Samuel  reads,  "And  the  country 
wept  with  a  loud  voice,  and  all  the  people  passed  over ; 
the  king  also  himself  passed  over  the  brook  Kidron,  and 
all  the  people  passed  over  toward  the  way  of  the  wilder- 
ness." Afterwards  the  brook  is  frequently  mentioned. 
In  this  valley  are  situated  the  Tombs  of  Absalom  (or 
Pillar),  of  Zechariah  and  of  St.  James;  the  Garden  of 
Gethsemane,  the  village  of  Siloam  or  Silwan,  as  it  is  now 
called,  &c,  &c.  Its  bed  just  opposite  the  Haram  is  the 
chief  and  much-desired  place  of  sepulture  with  the  Jews 
of  all  countries  and  classes.  They  imagine  that  this  will 
be  the  spot  where  the  ceremonies  of  the  Judgment  Day 
are  to  be  enacted ;  and  the  poor  creatures  think  that  if 

23 


:;.">  |  rin:    BROOK    KIDROtf. 

they  are  doI  at  hand  when  the  "awful  trump"  Bhall  sound. 
thai  tlu'\  will  have  a  long  and  tedious  way  to  travel 
underground!     Bui  to  this  legend  1  have  referred  before. 

Ai  several  portions  of  the  Kidron  its  depth  is  as  great 
as  one  hundred  and  sixty  fret  ;  and  the  wild  scenery  pre- 
sented from  tin'  cliffs  on  either  side  is  striking  and  grand. 
The  "King's  Vale*'  and  En-Rogel  are  situated  in  the 
valley  also. 

The  Kidron  has  been  wrongfully,  though  for  many 
years  universally,  called  the  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat. 
Jehoshaphat  means  "Jehovah  judgeth  ;"  and  by  a  forced 
translation  of  a  passage,  used  simply  in  a  metaphorical 
sense  by  the  Prophet  Joel  in  regard  to  the  final  judgment 
of  all,  the  valley  of  the  Kidron  has  been  taken  for  that 
valley !  It  is  now  called  Jehoshaphat  oftener  than 
Kidron. 

There  are  many  ancient  tombs  in  the  Brook  Kidron 
«ut  out  from  the  solid  rock,  which  in  some  places  forms 
the  bed  of  the  valley.  They  are  specimens  of  exquisite 
workmanship,  and  "impress  the  stranger,  perhaps  more 
than  anything  else,  with  the  wealth  and  splendor  of  the 
ancient  Jewish  capital."  The  place  of  rising  of  this 
noted  object  of  topographical  interest  is  "a  quarter  of  a 
mile  north-west  of  the  Damascus  Gate." 

The  third  and  mosl  fearfully  interesting  valley  is  Hin- 
nom  or  Ge-Henna  ;  the  one  in  which  human  sacrifices 
were  offered  to  Molech — in  other  words,  the  ancient 
Tophet.  Joshua  speaks  of  it  as  the  "Valley  of  the  Son 
of  Hinnom."  The  Jews,  recalling  the  bloody  purposes  to 
which   a  certain  dark  rocky  portion  of   this  valley  had 


HINNOM.  .)■>■) 


been  applied,  likened  it  to  torment,  and  called  it  Ge- 
Henna,  which  translated  means  Hell.  The  valley  com- 
mences on  the  western  part  of  the  city,  about  three  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  Jaffa  Gate,  and  after  a  long  and  cir- 
cuitous course  it  falls  into  the  Kidron  near  the  noted 
Aceldama,  to  which  I  have  before  referred. 

In  Joshua  xv.  7,  8,  we  read  :  "  And  the  border  went 
up  toward  Debir,  from  the  valley  of  Achor,  and  so  north- 
ward, looking  toward  Gilgal,  that  is  before  the  going  up 
to  Adummim,  which  is  on  the  south  side  of  the  river  :  and 
the  border  passed  toward  the  waters  of  En-shemesh,  and 
the  goings  out  thereof  were  at  En-Rogel :  And  the  bor- 
der went  up  by  the  valley  of  the  son  of  Hinnom,  unto 
the  south  side  of  the  Jebusite,  the  same  is  Jerusalem : 
and  the  border  went  up  to  the  top  of  the  mountain  that 
lieth  before  the  valley  of  Hinnom  westward,  which  is  at 
the  end  of  the  valley  of  the  giants  northward."  The  En- 
Rogel  here  noticed,  I  have  mentioned  in  my  Journal ;  it 
is  called  also  the  well  of  Joab  (not  Job) .  I  have  given 
the  quotation,  however,  to  notice  the  fact  that,  I  believe, 
this  is  the  first  place  in  the  Bible  that  Hinnom  is  men 
tioned. 

The  chief  interest,  though  a  melancholy  one,  which 
attaches  itself  to  Hinnom,  or  Ge-Henna,  is  excited  by  the 
remembrance  of  the  diabolical  acts  of  the  worshippers  of 
Molech.  During  these  horrible  sacrifices,  according  to 
Jeremiah,  sons  and  daughters  were  offered  up  profusely  to 
the  Brazen  Monster.  This  instrument  of  torture,  more 
cruel  than  any  concocted  by  the  Spanish  Inquisition,  was 
a  metallic  statue,   half  man  and   half  ox.     Wood   was 


856  1IINNOM. 

heaped  within  the  cavity,  and  when  kindled,  quickly 
made  the  image,  red  hot.  The  victims  then  were  placed 
in  the  hissing  white-hoi  arms  of  the  statue;  and  while 
drums  were  beaten,  to  drown  the  agonizing  cries  thus 
wrung  out  by  infernal  torture,  the  poor  wretches  were 
immolated  OD  the  shrine  and  to  the  idol  of  heathen  super- 
stition. Josiah  defiled  Tophet;  "he  broke  in  pieces  the 
images,  and  cut  down  the  -roves,  and  filled  their  places 
with  the  bones  of  men;"  and  being  defiled,  Jews  no 
longer  entered  it.  It  became  a  burying-place,  however ; 
and  to  this  day  Berves  to  carry  out  the  prophecy  of  Jere- 
miah, who  thus  foretold:  -  Wherefore,  behold  the  days 
come,  when  it  shall  no  more  be  called  Tophet,  nor  the 
valley  of  the  son  of  Hinnom,  but  the  valley  of  Slaughter; 
for  they  shall  bury  in  Tophet,  till  there  be  no  place." 
Strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  good  and  wise  King  Solomon 
first  introduced  this  inhuman  sacrifice,  for  he  erected  an 
altar  to  Molech  on  the  Mount  of  Olives  (1  Kings).  The 
interest  is  intense,  as  we  stand  in  the  tangled  place  which 
we  all  suppose  to  be  the  ancient  Tophet ;  yet  the  interest 
is  a  bloody  one. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

>ERHAPS,  in  connection  with  the  valleys  and  hills 
entering  into  the  ancient  topography  of  Jerusalem, 
^sS>    I  might  as  well  consider,  in  this  place,  the  old  walls 
which  once  encircled  the  City  of  Solomon  and  of 
the  Princes  of  the  East. 

According  to  Josephus,  these  walls  were  three  in  num- 
ber— the  three  differing  in  antiqueness.  That  these  walls 
were  more  extensive  than  the  present,  does  not  require 
much  examination  into  facts  of  history.  This  is  especi- 
ally true,  as  regards  the  first  and  most  ancient  of  the  old 
walls.  The  celebrated  "  Tower  of  Hippicus,"  of  which 
Josephus  writes  much,  is  a  most  valuable  stand-point  from 
which  to  commence  to  trace  the  ancient  walls.  The  large 
and  peculiarly-chiselled  stones  forming  this  structure, 
establish  its  age  as  antecedent  to  that  of  the  Roman 
conquest  of  the  city.  It  has  been  called  indiscriminately, 
the  Tower  of  David,  the  Castle  of  David,  and  the  Castle 
of  the  Pisans.  More  correctly,  it  is  known  as  the  Tower 
of  Hippicus;  so  named  from  one  of  the  officers  of  the 
Great  Herod,  which  monarch,  many  antiquarians  say, 
built  the  tower.  This  structure  stood,  or  stands,  near  the 
north-western  slope  of  Mount  Zion,  and  was,  according 
to  our  historian,  situated  at  the  north-western  angle  of 

(357) 


row  lie    or    11  l  PPICUS. 

tin-  fire!  wall,  or  the  wall  which  enclosed  /ion.  The 
tower  has  twice  escaped  destruction;  once  when  'Titus 
with  his  Roman  army  laid  the  pride  of  Jerusalem  low. 
ami  again  when  the  wild  followers  of  Mohammed  sacked 
the  city. 

According  to  Joseph  us  it  was  in  his  day  a  most  massive 
and  imposing  fortification;  and  even  now  it  presents  a 
formidable  and  Impregnable  appearance.  In  the  lull 
strength  and  glory  of  its  power  "the  form  was  quadran- 
gular, twenty-five  cubits  on  each  side,  and  built  up 
entirely  solid  to  the  height  of  thirty  cubits.  Over  this 
solid  part  was  a  large  cistern,  and  still  higher  were  the 
chambers  for  the  guards,,  surmounted  by  battlements. 
The  stones  in  its  walls  were  of  enormous  magnitude ; 
twenty  cubits  long  by  ten  broad  and  five  high.  Its 
situation  too  was  commanding;  for  it  stood  on  a  rocky 
crest  which  rose  from  the  summit  of  Zion  to  a  height  of 
fifty  cubits." 

From  this  description  we  see  at  a  glance  what  a  giant 
structure  Hippicus  was — and  well  might  Titus  have 
spared  it,  to  show  to  the  world  what  Roman  valor  and 
perseverance  had  won.  A  cubit  is,  I  think,  about  twenty- 
one  inches;  then  the  rock  simply  on  which  the  tower  had 
its  basis  was  over  eighty-seven  feet,  raised  above  the 
general  Buinmil  of  Zion — itself  evenjiohere  a  high  hill,  and 
this  its  highest  portion  ;  added  to  this  the  height  of  the 
tower — it-  -olid  portion  being  built  up  thirty  cubits — and 
above  this  yel  the  cistern — the  guard's  chamber,  and  then 
tic  height  of  the  battlements!  The  whole  citadel  must 
have    been    commanding    indeed.     Hut    the    Tower   has 


THE     FIRST    WALL.  359 


sadly  deteriorated  since  those  distant  days.  Forty  feet 
is  its  greatest  height  now;  and  a  few  old,  rusty,  badly- 
carriaged  guns  on  the  walls,  give  it  a  sombre,  desolate 
appearance. 

In  the  Tower  you  are  shown  a  large  chamber,  which 
the  Turkish  soldier  gravely  informs  you  was  once  occu- 
pied by  King  David ! — probably  in  his  uxorious  days,  for 
from  this  height  he  could  see  into  every  pool  in  the  city. 

The  Tower  of  Hippicus  then  forms  a  fixed  and  a  very 
interesting  point  of  departure  in  our  study  and  survey  of 
the  ancient  walls  of  the  City  of  the  Great  King.  We  know 
that  it  stood  "  at  the  north-west  angle  of  the  first  wall,"  and 
we  know  that  it  stands  now  on  the  north-western  brow  of 
Zion,  near  the  Jaffa  Gate.  Knowing  this,  we  will  consider 
first,  the  most  ancient  wall — that  which  encircled  Zion. 

The  first  wall,  commencing  at  Hippicus,  "ran  eastward 
along  the  northern .  brow  of  Zion,  and  then  across  the 
valley  to  the  western  enclosure  of  the  Temple,  a  distance 
of  about  six  hundred  and  thirty  yards."  Also  from  Hip- 
picus it  extended  along  the  western  declivity  of  Mount 
Zion  in  a  southern  direction.  Its  termination  in  this 
course  was  at  what  Josephus  calls  the  "Gate  of  the 
Essenes."  Of  this  place,  as  of  another  called  "  Bethzo," 
which  he  mentions  in  this  connection,  we  know  nothing 
at  all  at  present.  From  this  gate  it  turned  and  passed 
by  the  Pool  of  Siloam,  and  then,  by  a  course  of  which  we 
can  do  nothing  more  than  conjecture,  it  reached  and 
joined  the  Temple  enclosure,  or  the  present  Haram. 
This  is  a  rough  outline  of  the  wall  of  Zion,  which,  Jose- 
phus informs  us,  was  the  first  wall  of  the  city.     And  yet 


360  berod's   palace. 


this  account  seems  unsatisfactory;  lor,  in  the  works  of 
this  Bame  Josephus,  we  read  of  the  arm}  of  Titus,  which, 
after  it  had  gained  oomplete  possession  of  the  Tyropaon 
valley,  even  as  far  as  Siloam  (which  is  the  same  now  as 
then),  ye1  they  could  not  take  the  ••upper  city,"  whither 
the  retreating  Jews  had  fled.  Something — some  line  of 
defence — must  have  debarred  their  further  progress.  Now, 
according  to  Josephus,  in  another  place,  as  we  have 
already  quoted,  the  wall  of  Zion  Included  the  Tyropason 
and  Siloam — and  the  "upper  city." 

In  the  course  of  this  wall,  on  the  northern  brow  of 
Zion.  I  think,  was  the  Xystvs,  a  building  most  probably 
a  court  to  the  royal  palace  of  Herod,  and  used  as  a  forum. 
According  to  Josephus,  the  Xystus  was  connected  with 
the  llarani  court  by  the  ancient  bridge,  the  site  of  which 
has  been  pretty  definitely  settled. 

Not  far  from  the  Tower  of  Hippicus  were  two  similar 
towers,  noted,  as  Hippicus,  for  their  strength  and  grandeur. 
To  these  towers,  the  power  and  defence  of  the  city,  Herod's 
palace  was  connected.  This  palace  extended  from  one 
side  of  the  hill  to  the  other,  and  covered  an  area  of  great 
magnitude.  It  was  probably  built  on  the  same  site  as  was 
that  of  David.  It  is  described  as  being  gorgeous  in  the 
extreme,  and  as  having  apartments  most  spacious — some 
large  enough  to  accommodate  "  one  hundred  guests." 

"  The  magnificence  of  the  work,  and  the  skill  displayed 
in  its  construction,  could  not  be  surpassed.  All  around 
were  many  cloistered  courts,  opening  into  one  another, 
and  the  columns  in  each  were  different.  Such  parts  of 
the  courts  as  were  open,  were  everywhere  covered  with 


THE     SECOND    WALL.  361 


verdure.  There  were,  besides,  groves  with  long  walks 
through  them,  lined  by  deep  conduits;  and  in  many 
places  fountains  studded  with  bronze  figures,  through 
which  the  waters  were  discharged.  ...  It  was  completely 
enclosed  by  a  wall,  thirty  cubits  high ;  and  ornamental 
towers  were  distributed  along  it  at  equal  distances,  with 
spacious  apartments." 

The  second  wall  encircled  Akra.  Now  to  determine  its 
course,  it  is  necessary  that  we  first  definitely  locate  the 
gate  Gennath,  which  was  in  the  first  wall,  and  of  which 
Josephus  speaks  as  the  starting-point  for  the  second  wall. 
Many  disputes  have  arisen  among  learned  writers  on  Je- 
rusalem topography,  in  regard  to  this  point,  yet  nothing 
has  been  fully  proved.  Dr.  Robinson  believes  one  thing, 
and  Mr.  Williams,  in  his  "  Holy  City,"  is  just  as  firm  in 
his  opinion  au  contraire.  The  best  way  to  act  in  the  pre- 
mises, is  to  study  both  sides,  compare  the  respective  argu- 
ments and  proofs,  each  adduces,  then  study  for  yourself, 
having  a  like  basis,  with  them,  for  research,  and  decide 
according  to  honest  conviction.  It  is  generally  conceded 
that  the  gate  Gennath  was  near  Hippicus ;  more  probable 
than  otherwise,  to  the  eastward  of  the  tower ;  for,  as  it 
has  been  well  remarked  by  an  eminent  writer,  "  the  wall 
was  for  the  defence  of  Akra,  and  a  glance  at  the  map,  or 
at  the  hill  itself,  shows  that  a  wall,  constructed  to  enclose 
it,  and  carried  in  a  circle,  as  Josephus  says,  from  a  point 
on  the  north  of  Zion,  to  the  north-west  corner  of  the 
Haram,  could  scarcely  have  commenced  far  eastward  of 
Hippicus."  Dr.  Porter  goes  on  to  speak  of  the  remnants 
of  a  gate,  and  of  two  chambers  near  the  present  Damas- 


362  1  HE    SI  CON  D    w  A  1. 1.. 


cus  Grate.  He  considers  these  chambers  to  have  been  the 
guard-houses  to  a  gate  in  the  Becond  wall.  The  most 
plausible  argument  or  reason  for  believing  Gennath  to  be 
near  Hippicus,  is  by  Dr.  Robinson.     I  give  it  herewith. 

"Josephus  relates  thai  'the  city  was  fortified  by  three 
walls,  wherever  it  was  no1  encircled  b\  impassable  val- 
leys;' thai  is  to  Bay,  upon  its  whole  northern  quarter. 
Bu1  if  the  gate  Gennath,  at  which  the  second  wall  began, 
was  not  near  Hippicus,  and  especially  if  it  was  BO  far 
distant  as  to  be  opposite  the  western  bazaars  (as  Mr. 
Williams,  and  other  defenders  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre, 
maintain),  then  all  that  tract  of  the  upper  city,  from 
Hippicus  to  the  said  gate,  was  fortified  only  by  a  single 
wall,  before  the  time  of  Agrippa;  and  by  only  two  walls 
(instead  of  three)  at  the  time  of  which  Josephus  was 
writing.  The  tract  thus  unprotected,  extended  for  more 
than  seven  hundred  feet,  amounting  to  more  than  one-half 
of  the  entire  northern  side  of  Zion,  and  to  nearly  one-half 
of  the  whole  length  of  the  first  wall. 

•■  That  all  this,  however,  was  not  so,  and  that  Zion  was 
actually  protected  on  the  north  by  three  walls,  appears 
further,  from  the  fact,  that  in  every  siege  of  Jerusalem, 
reported  by  Josephus  (the  approaches  being  always,  and 
necessarily,  made  on  the  north  and  north-west),  no  attack 
or  approach  is  ever  described  as  made  against  the  upper 
cit}  of  Zion.  until  after  the  besiegers  had  already  broken 
through  the  xcond  wall,  and  had  thus  got  possession  of 
the  lower  city.  But  if  the  second  wall  began  near  the 
bazaars,  then  more  than  o.ie-half  of  the  northern  brow 
of  Zion  was  not  protected  by  it  at  all;  and  the  possession 


THE     WALL    OF     BEZETHA. 


of  the  lower  city  was  not  necessary  in  order  to  make 
approaches  against  the  upper;  and  that,  too,  at  the  most 
accessible  point — the  very  point,  indeed,  near  to  Hippi- 
cus,  where  Titus  actually  made  his  assault  after  he  had 
taken  the  second  wall." 

An  authentic  writer  very  pertly  remarks,  that  there 
would  not  be  half  this  dispute  connected  with  these  holy 
places,  and  their  sites,  especially  with  the  location  of  the 
second  wall,  were  it  not  that  ecclesiastical  traditions  were 
intimately  connected  and  blended,  with  them  ;  in  other 
words,  let  "  topography,  history,  and  ancient  remains" 
point  out  the  position  of  the  second  wall,  and  then  "  there  is 
an  end  to  the  romance  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  for  it  is  far 
within  this  line  of  wall,  and  Christ  was  crucified  without 
the  gates." 

77ie  Wall  of  Bezetha,  making  the  third  of  the  series, 
is  the  last  described  by  Josephus.  The  Tower  of 
Hippicus  is  still  the  point  of  departure,  and  we  have  the 
following  sites  to  determine,  in  order  to  trace  the  line  of 
the  wall :  the  Tower  of  Psephinus,  the  Monuments  of 
Helena,  the  Royal  Caverns,  and  the  "  corner  tower  near 
the  place  known  as  the  Fuller's  Tomb." 

Of  the  site  of  three  of  these  we  may  well  conjecture, 
and  we  may  look  upon  the  other — namely,  the  monuments 
of  Helena — as  determined.  This,  it  has  been  decided,  is 
identical  with  the  present  "  Tombs  of  the  Kings,"  to 
which  I  shall  in  due  time  refer. 

On  the  ridge,  which  is  a  continuation  of  Zion,  we  find 
in  several  places  scarped  rock  and  large  bevelled  stones, 
with  very  ancient  substructions.     These  ruins    are  pre- 


36  I  T  11  l.    w  \  1.1.    OF    BE2BTH  \. 

Bented  bo  our  view,  at  several  points  along  which  we 
might  reasonably  Buppose  the  Wall  of  Bezetha  of  Jose- 
phua  to  have  inn.  It  is  to  be  supposed  that  the  Tower 
of  Psephinua  Btood  on  the  summit  of  this  ridge.  It  is  a 
\,t\  elevated  and  commanding  position — the  most  com- 
manding, in  fact,  of  the  whole  line — and  we  might  readily 
imagine  that  the  tower  would  be  placed  in  the  most  impos- 
ing situation. 

According  to  Josephus,  the  tower  was  seventy  cubits 
high,  and  a  view  of  Arabia,  and  of  the  Hebrew  territory, 
could  be  seen  as  far  as  the  sea.  In  speaking  of  this  wall, 
.Josephus  says.  "  the  Tower  of  Hippicus  formed  the  com- 
mencement of  the  third  wall,  which  stretched  from  thence 
northward  as  far  as  the  Tower  of  Psephinus,  and  then 
passing  opposite  the  Monuments  of  Helena,  and  extend- 
ing through  the  Royal  Caverns,  it  turned  at  the  corner 
known  as  the  Fuller's  Tomb,  and,  connecting  itself  to  the 
old  wall,  terminated  at  the  valley  called  Kidron." 

Now  we  have  satisfactorily  disposed  of  Psephinus  and 
tin-  Monuments  of  Helena.  So  much,  then,  have  we 
-ained. 

The  Royal  Caverns  are  also  in  the  line  of  the  wall. 
Not  far  from  the  Tombs  of  the  Kings,  says  a  reliable 
writer,  is  an  offset  from  Jehoshaphat,  in  the  rocky  and 
precipitous  Bides  of  which  are  many  highly  ornamented 
excavated  tombs.  These  the  writer  considers  the  Royal 
Caverns  of  Josephus;  and  position  bears  out  the  state- 
ment. In  another  place  bordering  on  the  Kidron  there  is 
a  bold  angle  which  suits  admirably  for  the  Tower  of 
Fuller's  Tomb.     Thus  the  hill  along  Kidron  was  the  line 


ANCIENT    GATES.  365 


of  the  wall;  and  thence  to  the  city,  as  this  part  of  the 
ground  offered  natural  advantages  not  to  be  overlooked 
by  any  engineer.  This  wall  was  commenced  under  the 
Emperor  Claudius  on  a  grand  scale;  but  it  was  com- 
pleted by  the  Jews  in  a  much  humbler  style. 

•  As  regards  the  Ancient  Gates,  little  is  known ;  and,  of 
course,  little  can  be  said.  From  Nehemiah  of  the  Old 
Testament,  and  from  Josephus,  we  learn  more  than  from 
any  other  authority.  Many  of  the  gates,  of  which  men- 
tion is  made  in  those  two  writers,  may  have  been  identical, 
though  having  different  names.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the 
whole  number  of  which  there  is  any  notice  at  all  is  fifteen. 
They  are,  to  wit :  Gates  Gennath  and  Essenes  of  Jose- 
phus;  Sheep  Gate,  Fish  Gate,  Old  Gate,  Valley  Gate, 
Dung  Gate,  Fountain  Gate,  Water  Gate,  Horse  Gate, 
Gate  Miphkad,  Prison  Gate,  Gate  of  Ephraim,  Corner 
Gate,  and  Gate  of  Benjamin.  Where  these  gates  were 
situated,  we  do  not  positively  know  ;  only  of  one  or  two 
can  we  point  to  their  locality  with  anything  like  cer- 
tainty. 

Having  considered  the  ancient,  perhaps  it  would  be  as 
well  now  to  consider  the  modern  topography  of  Jerusa- 
lem. This  plan  may  be  better,  too,  as  affording  the 
reader  a  comparative  view  of  ancient  and  modern  Jeru- 
salem at  a  single  glance — topographically  speaking. 

The  present  City  of  Jerusalem  is  nearly  thirty  miles 
distant  from  the  sea-coast,  by  an  air  line.  It  is  situated 
in  31°  46'  43"  north  latitude,  and  35°  13'  east  longitude. 
Its  elevation  above  the  Mediterranean,  is  a  little  over  two 


366  MODERN     WALLS. 


thousand  feet,  and  above  the  Dead  Sea,  it  is  thirty-seven 
hundred  and  Beveu  feet. 

The  Ilol\  City  has  been  known  by  several  names, 
ancient  as  well  as  modern;  for  instance,  by  Joshua  and 
other  Old  Testament  writers  it  is  called  Jebus.  It  is  called 
b\  the  Arabs  El-Kuds — sometimes  El-Khuds  esh-Sherif — 
the  Latter  two  words  meaning  "Hu  nobh!  The  city  is 
situated  on  a  high  rugged,  rocky,  irregular  platform  or 
delta  formed  by  the  valleys  of  Ge-Henna  and  kidron. 
The  TyropaBon  Valley,  running  to  the  south-east,  Insects 
the  city,  ••  leaving  a  high  ridge  on  each  side." 

Jerusalem  is.  in  the  words  of  the  Psalmist  and  in  truth, 
"encompassed  by  mountains:**  the  Mount  of  Olives. 
Mount  Scopus,  the  Hill  of  Evil  Counsel,  and  the  jagged 
dill's  of  the  valleys,  frown  down  from  their  black  scoreh- 
im:  summits  on  the  "widowed  queen."  It  is  a  wild  and 
fearfully  desolate-looking  spot  on  which  Jerusalem  lies 
now.  comparatively  deserted — withering  under  the  curse 
of  Jehovah.  A  melancholy  contrast  she  presents,  to  the 
royal  splendors  that  blazed  over  her,  when  Solomon  held 
his  court  within  her  walls.  Where  lordly  piles  arose  in 
rich  profusion  and  spoke  of  the  power  and  pride  of  the 
princes  of  Israel,  now  filthy  ruins  and  miserable  hovels 
cluster  darkly  together. 

The  modern  walls  of  Jerusalem  are,  as  I  believe  I  have 
Btated  in  another  portion  of  this  work,  about  two  and  a 
third  geographical  miles  in  circuit;  this  includes  every 
angle  and  indentation.  Some  parts  of  this  wall,  as  that 
ming  the  Baram  enclosure  on  the  south-east,  and  the 
rampart   on    the   east,  date   much   farther   back    than    the 


MODERN     WALLS.  36' 


remaining  portions.  The  general  wall,  as  it  stands,  is 
the  work  of  Suleiman,  and  was  erected  in  1542,  a  little 
over  three  hundred  years  ago.  The  massive  bevelled 
stones,  forming  a  portion  of  the  Haram  enclosure,  place 
that  wall  incontestably  back  to  a  period  prior  even  to  the 
Christian  era.  The  walls  are  high  and,  at  a  distance,  im- 
posing, yet  they  are  far  from  being  impregnable  or  even 
strong.  "  A  single  discharge  of  heavy  artillery  would  lay 
them  prostrate ;  yet  they  are  sufficient  to  keep  in  check 
the  roving  Arab  tribes  and  the  turbulent  peasantry." 

There  are  clearly  four  sides  to  the  walls,  though  they 
are  somewhat  irregular.  The  straightest  portion  of  the 
whole  work  is  that  running  along  the  high  bluff  over- 
looking the  Brook  Kidron.  The  highest  point  in  the 
city,  and  from  which  a  glorious  view  is  to  be  had,  is  at 
the  north-west  angle  of  the  wall.  Near  this  locality  is  a 
heap  of  large  stones,  evidently  once  the  foundation  of 
some  mighty  superstructure.  This  mass  has  been  styled 
the  "  Castle  of  Goliath ;"  why,  I  know  not,  unless  there 
was  a  "  hugeness  in  stature"  in  the  castle.  In  fine,  we 
might  say  of  the  modern  walls  of  Jerusalem,  they  present 
no  mark  of  especial  interest, — are  well  preserved,  and 
require  no  study  save  that  portion  before  mentioned — the 
east  wall  of  the  Haram  enclosure — which  of  itself,  how- 
ever, affords  material  in  the  shape  of  reflective  food,  suf- 
ficient for  any  antiquarian. 

The  present  gates — though  most  of  them  occupy,  so 
far  as  we  are  able  to  judge,  the  sites  of  the  ancient  gate- 
wavs — are  far  fewer  in  number  than  the  latter.  In  all, 
of  which  we  have  any  direct  and  distinct  trace,  there  are 


MolH'.KN      G   \T1   S. 


B6ven — five  open  and  two  closed.  The  Golden  Gate  is 
one  of  ilic  Latter;  1  bave  made  repeated  references  to  it. 
It  is  situated  in  the  eastern  wall  of  the  Haram.  How 
long  it  lias  been  closed  1  know  not.  The  Arabs  call  it 
Bdb  ed-Dahartyeh,  which  means  the  "  Eternal  Gate." 

Tip'  other  closed  gate,  generally  known  as  "Herod's 
(late."  but  bj  the  Arabs  as  Bdb  ea-Zakery  ("Gate  of 
Flowers"),  is  situated  not  far  from  the  Damascus  Gate, 
on  the  northern  side  of  the  wall. 

The  live  open  gates  are  the  Jatta  Gate,  Damascus  Gate, 
Dun-  Gate.  Gate  of  St.  Stephen,  and  Zion  Gate.  Each 
of  these  different  gates  are  known  by  different  names. 
Thus  the  Jaffa  Gate  is  the  Bdb  el-Kludil  ("Hebron  Gate"), 
the  Damascus  Gate  is  the  Bab  el-Annul  ("  Gate  of  the 
Column"),  St.  Stephen's  Gate  is  Bab  es-Subat  ("Gate  of 
the  Tribes"),  and  by  native  Christians  "it  is  called  Bab 
Sitty-Mariam,  'the  Gate  of  My  Lady  Mary"'  (Porter). 
The  Dun-' Gate  is  also  called  Bab  el-Mugharibeh  ("the 
Gate  of  the  Western  Africans"),  and  the  Zion  Gate  is 
likewise  known  as  the  Bab  en-Neby  Daud  ("Gate  of  the 
Prophet  David"). 

The  Jaffa  Gate  is  situated  in  the  western  part  of  the 
city,  near  Hippicus,  and  by  it  we  enter  the  town  from 
the  sea.  It  is  a  large,  exceedingly  massive  gate,  though 
rather  rude  in  architecture.  It  is  kept  open  a  half-hour 
later  than  any  other  gate  in  the  city,  because  there  is 
more  going  in  and  out  by  it,  than  by  all  the  others 
together.  This  is  the  main  entrance  from  all  the  west- 
ern country.  It  is  sometimes  also  called  "Bethlehem 
Gate." 


MODERN     GATES.  369 


The  Damascus,  though  not  the  largest,  is  the  most 
highly  ornamented  and  beautiful  gate  in  the  city.  It  is 
in  the  northern  wall,  and  the  "  Great  North  Road"  leaves 
Jerusalem,  through  it. 

The  use  to  which  the  Dung  Gate  was  put  (I  say  was, 
because,  since  1855,  it  has  been  closed),  I  know  not,  nor 
do  I  think  the  name  describes  its  use.  There  is  no 
road  leading  from  it,  if  I  may  except  a  wretched  path 
leading  to  the  equally  wretched  village  of  Siloam.  Why 
the  gate  was  closed  I  could  not  learn.  It  was  open  until 
Christmas,  1854  ;  hence  my  reason  for  classing  it  as  an 
open  gate.     It  is  situated  in  the  south  of  the  city. 

St.  Stephen's  Gate  is  in  the  eastern  wall,  not  far  from 
the  Haram  enclosure.  Through  it  we  make  our  exit 
when  going  to  the  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  the  Garden  of 
Gethsemane,  or  Mount  Olivet.  We  also  went  to  Jericho 
through  this  gate.  It  is  situated,  I  think,  on  the  highest 
bluff  of  the  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  and  a  fine  view  is  to 
be  had  from  its  summit. 

The  locality  of  the  Zion  Gate  can  be  gathered  from  its 
name.  It  is  situated  on  the  very  edge  of  Mount  Zion. 
Not  far  from  it  is  the  Ccenaculum,  beneath  the  floor  of 
which  is  David's  Tomb.  A  melancholy,  loathsome  interest 
is  attached  to  this  gate,  from  the  fact  that  here  cluster 
those  miserable  outcasts,  the  lepers.  There  is  a  small 
Armenian  convent  also  near  by. 

As  regards  the  population  of  the  ancient  city,  in  com- 
parison with  the  modern,  there  exist  several  contradictory 
statements,  some  to  the  effect  that  the  former  was  more 
than  twice  as  large  as  the  latter — others,  that  it  was  a 
24 


370  POPULATION     OF    JERUSALEM. 

great  muni/  times  larger,  &c,  &c.  From  Josephus'e 
Account,  and  Prom  his  measurement,  a  city  <>f  such  a  size, 
aud  ordinarily  populated,  could  not  hold  more  than 
80,000  people,  though,  as  Porter  well  remarks,  the 
inhabitants  of  eastern  cities  have  a  singular  way  of  pack- 
ing themselves,  and  everything  else,  away — a  mode  of 
exemplifying,  in  a  certain  sense,  the  Latin,  n  nil  turn  in 
parvo.  Porter  Bays,  if  Josephus  is  right  in  his  assertions, 
then,  making  due  allowances,  he  thinks  90,000  a 
good  estimate.  According  to  Josephus,  Jerusalem  was 
thirty-three  stadia  (four  Roman  miles)  in  circuit.  That 
there  were  a  great  many  more  people  above  the  number  of 
resident  inhabitants,  during  seasons  offcasts,  there  can  be 
no  doubt.  We  learn  from  the  Jewish  historian,  that,  at 
the  time  of  the  capture  of  the  city  by  Titus,  there  were 
not  less  than  2,700.000  souls  in  Jerusalem!  of  whom 
1.100.000  perished.  To  this  day,  the  population  of  the 
city  is  always  much  increased,  at  the  Easter  and  Christmas 
holidays,  and  the  valleys  and  hill-sides  around  Jerusalem 
are  dotted  with  the  innumerable  tents  of  the  palmers. 
Mich  may  have  been  the  case  during  the  Passover  feasts, 
to  which  Josephus  refers.  I  consider  Porter  the  very 
besl  authority  extant,  on  this  subject,  and  believe  his 
general  estimate  of  70.000,  as  the  number  of  inhabitants 
of  ancient  Jerusalem,  as  nearly  correct — more  so,  at  all 
events,  than  the  calculation  of  any  other  writer. 

The  presenl  population  of  Jerusalem  has  been  variously 
ikoned  also;  some  consider  it  as  high  as  30,000.     It  is 
hardly  as  large.     The  following  account,  "carefully  com- 
piled by  cue  long  resident  in  the  city,"  is  very  reliable: — 


HISTORY    OF    JERUSALEM.  371 

Sects.  Numbers. 

Muslems ...  4000 

Jews 6000 

Greeks 1500 

Latins 1200 

Armenians    ........•••  280 

Syrians,  Copts,  and  Abyssinians 150 

Greek  Catholics U° 

Protestants 100 

Total 13,340 

Perhaps  it  would  not  be  amiss  here,  to  give  a  brief 
history  of  Jerusalem,  under  each  of  the  different  rules  to 
which  it  has,  in  the  course  of  time,  acknowledged  obedi- 
ence. These  rules  are  very  distinctly  three — the  Jewish, 
the  Roman,  and  the  Mohammedan.  Would  that  I  had 
the  ability  to  describe  the  various  changes  and  tides  of 
existence  through  which  Jerusalem  has  suffered  and 
smiled.  Be  that  the  task  of  others.  I  am  content  if  I 
can  give  the  reader  a  skeleton  outline  of  a  subject  which 
might  profitably  employ  his  time  and  labor  for  years. 

I  will  proceed  in  chronological  order,  and  first  notice 
the  city  under  the  empire  of  its  rightful  lords,  the  Jews. 

Jerusalem  always  has  been,  since  it  had  an  existence, 
and  always  will  be,  the  heaven-on-earth  to  the  Jew. 
Whatever  has  been  his  clime,  whatever  his  fortune,  his 
face  is  ever  turned  toward  the  City  of  Peace,  in  silent, 
suffering  meditation.  Go  where  you  will — and  even  in 
this,  our  day,  wherever  you  find  a  true,  down-trodden 
son  of  the  seed  of  Abraham,  there  you  will  find  enshrined 
in  his  heart,  sweet  and  sacred  associations  of  the  City  of 
his  father  David. 


372  BISTORT    OF    JERUSALEM. 

David  conquered  the  Jebusites,  and  with  the  fall  of 
Zion,  and  the  subsequent  instalment  of  the  young  harper 
in  the  vacated  throne,  maj  be  said  to  have  virtually  and 
really  commenced  the  reign  of  the  Jewish  princes.  This 
rule  existed  with  but  Blight  interruptions,  down  to  the 
time  of  the  capture  of  Jerusalem  1>\  Titus,  forty  years 
after  the  cruel  death  of  the  Son  of  God.  Solomon  laid 
the  corner-stone  of  the  Great  Temple  on  Mt.  Moriah,  a 
building  oi'  which,  from  its  gorgeous  splendor,  we  speak 
in  this,  our  day,  as  if  it  was  a  created  brilliancy  of  an 
Arabian  night's  enchanting  power,  as  if  it  existed  but 
yesterday.  Thirty-seven  years  after  the  fall  of  the  Jebu- 
Bite  castle,  in  the  "  Upper  City"  on  Zion,  Solomon  com- 
menced the  uprearing  of  the  stupendous  edifice  which 
afterwards  bore  the  monarch's  name,  "  Solomon's  Tem- 
ple." and  its  fairy  splendors  seem  even  to  us,  I  might 
say.  as  familiar  as  "  household  words."  It  was  in  Solo- 
mon- reign,  that  Jerusalem,  the  then  newly-made  Jewish 
capital,  reached  the  zenith  of  its  power  and  dazzling 
wealth,  and  it  soon  became  the  Mecca  toward  which 
many  curious  pilgrims  wended  their  way. 

Time  rolled  on,  however,  and  four  hundred  and  fifty 
rs  after  David  took  possession  of  the  Jebusite  Castle, 
the  Jews  suffered  a  reverse  and  subsequent  defeat  by 
Nebuchadnezzar.  Then  finally  came  the  black  night  of  the 
Babylonish  Captivity — a  galling  thraldom  of  fifty  odd 
year-.  This  Btate  of  national  incarceration,  as  it  might  be 
termed,  was  sorely  borne  by  the  Jews,  for  their  city  and 
proud  temple  were  now  laid  low  in  ruins.  Cyrus,  the 
Persian,    however,    having   come   to   the   throne,    liber- 


HISTORY    OF    JERUSALEM.  373 


ated  the  captives,  who  once  again  sought  the  desolate, 
barren  spot,  where  stood  their  beautiful  city,  in  former 
halcyon  times,  and  where  once  towered  their  lordly  Tem- 
ple, its  massive  walls  and  minarets  rising  toward  the  sky. 
Straightway  they  commenced  to  rebuild  that  Shrine  they 
so  much  revered,  and  twenty  years  of  long  but  patient 
toil  elapsed  before  the  work  was  completed.  This  was 
the  second  Temple. 

From  this  period  until  the  time  of  Herod  the  Great,  the 
Jewish  rule  (all  the  time,  however,  till  the  conquest  of 
Alexander  the  Great,  under  the  direction  of  a  Persian 
satrap)  underwent  several  fortunes  or  misfortunes,  more 
properly  speaking.  In  the  quoted  article  on  history  in 
another  portion  of  this  work,  the  reader  will  find  the  con- 
tinued fortunes  of  the  nation,  fully  treated.  Herod  was 
made  King  of  Judea,  in  the  year  b.  c.  38.  In  spite  of 
his  introduction  of  the  most  heathenish  abominations,  or 
abominable  heathenisms,  he  succeeded  in  building  the 
Temple  up,  in  a  style  the  most  gorgeous,  beautiful  and 
elegant !  so  beautiful  that  the  Apostles  took  Jesus,  the 
dweller  in  the  mighty  Temple  of  the  skies,  out  to  a  com- 
manding position,  and  bade  Him  look  and  behold  its 
beautiful  proportions.  It  was  then  He  prophesied  that 
"  not  one  stone  shall  be  left  upon  another ;"  a  prophecy, 
which  I  saw  myself,  was  literally  fulfilled.  Alas!  for 
thee,  now  lone  Judea !  Thy  gorgeous  Temple  is  no- 
where to  be  seen,  but  in  its  place,  the  haughty  Mosque 
of  Omar,  the  Mohammedan  Holiest  of  the  Holies,  flings 
its  huge  shadow  across  the  broad  Court  of  the  Temple 
Area,  and  the  turbanned  Muslem  sentinel,  with  hooked 


.".7  I  BISTORT     OF    JERUSALEM. 


scimetar,  pacing  before  the  entrance,  tells  us  that  the  glory 
of  [arael  has  departed  : 

••oh  !  weep  for  those  thai  wepl  \>\  Babel's  Btream, 
Whose  -hriiios  are  desolate,  w  hose  land  a  dream ; 
\\  eep  for  the  barp  of  Judah's  broken  sh«-l  1 ; 
Mourn — where  their  God  baa  dwelt  -the  i^oJIchs  dwell!" 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

/6S)hE   ROMAN  RULE.— This  lasted  from  the  con- 

<§yip    quest  of  Titus  until   the  year  636,  and  was,  in 

q^O    many  senses,  the  most  interesting  of  those  reigns — 

£p     especially  to  the  pilgrim  or  to    the    antiquarian, 

In  that  reign  pious  Christians  commenced  flocking  to  the 

Holy    City    in    sacred    pilgrimages,    and,  to    meet    their 

cravings,  many  holy  places  were  discovered  or  invented, — 

far  oftener  the  latter. 

After  the  destruction  of  the  city  by  the  bloody  Titus, 
Jerusalem  was  suffered  to  remain  for  a  number  of  years 
in  almost  utter  neglect  and  ruin — save  indeed  as  regards 
fortifications.  The  Roman  general  also  allowed  the  three 
large  towers,  of  which  I  have  spoken,  to  stand.  At  this 
time,  notwithstanding  the  teachings  of  Father  Jerome, 
there  was  not  enough  of  the  old  city  remaining,  to  have 
deserved  the  name  of  "  Remnants  of  the  City."  There 
must  have  been  a  few  miserable  Jews  lingering  yet  amid 
the  wreck  of  their  fallen  city,  but  not  enough  to  warrant 
any  such  supposition  as  that  they  inhabited  a  city  called 
Jerusalem  as  masters  or  slaves,  from  the  time  of  the  over- 
throw, up  to  the  rule  of  Adrian,  who,  if  history  be  cor- 
rect, at  one  time  (a.  d.  130),  in  chancing  to  visit  Palestine, 
found  the  Jews  were  plotting  to  throw  off  the  Roman 

(375) 


376  BISTORT     OF    .1  K  It  US  A  L  KM. 


yoke,  and  banished  mosl  of  them  to  Africa.  In  the 
reign  of  Adrian.  Jerusalem  saw  its  most  miserable  and 
degraded  day.  Profane  mythological  statues  were  pul  up 
in  the  city,  the  name  of  which  was  now  changed  to  JElia 
GapUolina,  "in  honor  of  Jupiter  Capitolinus,  whose  lane 
now  occupied  the  place  of  the  Jewish  Temple.  Tims 
was  the  capital  of  Israel  transformed  into  a  pagan  city, 
with  Jupiter  as  its  patron  God." 

Prom  this  time  to  Constantine's  reign  Jerusalem  does 
indeed  seem  to  be  enveloped  in  the  darkest  obscurity. 
In  fact,  nothing  is  known  of  it  until  the  first  Christian 
emperor  ascended  his  throne.  About  this  time  pilgrims 
from  other  lands,  in  the  ratio  in  which  Christianity  had 
advanced,  journeyed  to  the  Holy  Land,  in  hope  by  such 
a  pilgrimage  to  wash  away  some  of  their  sins.  Under 
Constantine,  the  facilities  for  visiting  Jerusalem  were 
much  increased,  and  then  first  commenced  the  discovery 
of  holy  places.  Helena.  Constantine's  aged  mother,  did  as 
much  toward  this  as  any  other  person  ;  it  was  under  her 
direction  that  the  Church  of  the  Nativity  was  erected  in 
IVthlehem  for  the  first  time;  likewise  that  of  the  Ascen- 
Bion  on  the  Mount  of  Olives;  and  finally  That  crowning 
J'i">  of  all  the  holies,  about  which  so  much  good  blood 
has  been  shed,  and  so  many  controversies  no  less  fiercely 
waged.  Very  many  holy  sites  followed  in  rapid  succes- 
sion, and  very  many  were  added  to  the  Church  of  the 
Ih.ly  Sepulchre.  To  this  remarkable  building  and  its 
locality  I  have  referred  in  another  place;  suffice  it  then 
to  remark  here — for  I  shall  refer  to  this  particular  portion 
of  the  subjeel  again — that  there  exists  very  little,  if  in- 


HISTORY    OF    JERUSALEM.  377 


deed  any,  true  basis  for  supposing  the  present  edifice  to 
cover  the  tomb  of  the  Saviour.  If  profane  history  is  true 
on  this  point,  as  it  is  of  others  of  a  coeval  date,  then  fare- 
well to  the  romance  of  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre  !  In 
fact,  at  best,  in  view  of  certain  indisputable  accounts,  it 
is  worse  than  folly  to  believe  one  iota  concerning  the 
absurd  local  legends  connected  with  the  church. 

As  long  as  Constantine  was  emperor,  the  Jews,  by  his 
permission,  visited  Jerusalem  whenever  they  pleased, 
and,  by  the  direction  of  Julian  the  Apostate,  they  com- 
menced the  rebuilding  of  their  idolized  Temple,  about  the 
year  362,  but  were  deterred  from  completing  it  by  divine 
manifestations  of  a  terrible  nature.  When  Julian  died, 
their  liberties  were  again  restricted  :  "  they  were  forbidden 
to  enter  the  city,  except  once  a  year,  to  weep  over  the 
stones  of  the  Temple.  Then,  probably,  commenced  that 
affecting  practice  which  the  traveller  can  still  witness  at 
the  <  Place  of  Wailing.'  " 

In  the  year  529,  in  the  reign  of  Justinian,  a  church 
was  built  to  the  Virgin,  in  the  Haram  enclosure.  That 
church  was  regularly  dedicated  to  the  Virgin,  but  became 
ultimately,  after  many  years,  a  Mohammedan  mosk,  and 
is  now  known  as  el-Aksa.  In  the  sixth  century,  the 
Persians  conquered  the  city,  slew  many  of  its  inhabitants, 
and  burnt  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre  to  the  ground. 
Not  many  years  elapsed,  however,  before  Christian  rule 
was  recognised.  But  fortune  is  fickle — she  shuffles  the 
dice  of  destiny  very  strangely  sometimes — the  Christian 
power  was  speedily  broken,  and  then  commenced  a  third 
reign,  which  brings  us  to  the 


378  BISTORl     OF    JERUSALEM. 


Mohammedan  Ri  lb. — Anno  Domini  636,  or  thereabouts, 
the  celebrated  KMiif,  Omar,  who  has  transmitted  his 
aame  by  Buch  a  Lasting  monument  as  that  which  now 
stands  in  the  Temple  area,  appeared,  with  a  large  army, 
before  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  which  now  acknowledged 
Christian  supremacy.  Alter  a  Long  and  arduous  siege, 
and  much  suffering  on  both  sides,  the  Christian  forces  at 
Length  capitulated,  upon  the  terms  "  that  their  lives,  their 
property,  and  their  churches  should  he  secured  to  them.' 
Omar,  in  general,  was  as  good  as  his  word.  To  perpetuate 
hi-  own  glory,  he  gave  orders  for  erecting,  on  the  site  of 
the  old  Jewish  Temple,  a  magnificent  building.  He, 
himself,  designed  the  work,  hut  it  was  reserved  for  Abdel 
M>  I,  It  to  build  tin-  .Mosque  of  Omar.  The  church  dedicated 
to  the  Virgin,  built  by  .Justinian,  was  changed,  at  this 
time,  into  a  mosque,  and  called  el-Aksa.  Until  the  middle 
of  the  tenth  century,  those  Khalifs  and  their  descendants 
held  sway  over  Jerusalem.  But  just  after  this  time,  the 
conquering  Fatamites  of  Egypt  extended  their  victorious 
arms  hitherward — gained  Jerusalem,  and  became  rulers 
of  the  land.  Then  commenced  in  reality  the  persecutions 
of  the  Christians  and  pilgrims.  The  climax  of  cruelty 
was  gradually  reached  in  the  reign  of  a  Fatimite  prince, 
named  el-Hakim,  and  then  by  the  Seljukian  Turks,  in 
the  eleventh  century.  The  cruelties  practised  towards 
the  poor  Christians  were  nowr  at  their  height — their 
oppression  was  severe.  And  now,  'pushed  into  life,  as  it 
were,  -prang  the  Crusades.  The  times  called  for  them — 
they  were  necessary,  perhaps,  and  ordained  by  Almighty 
(,  ,{ — though   many  writers    and    commentators  on   the 


HISTORY    OF    JERUSALEM.  379 


subject,  remain  ignorant  of  the  beneficial  effect  of  these 
Holy  Wars.  Peter  the  Hermit,  with  a  praiseworthy 
zeal,  went  to  Jerusalem,  and  saw  for  himself  the  wrongs 
perpetrated  on  Christian  palmers.  He  could  not  endure 
it ;  but  hastened  home,  and,  by  his  thrilling  appeals,  he 
awakened  the  chivalry  of  all  Europe.  He  led,  in  person, 
the  first  Crusade. 

I  have  read  of  another  origin  of  the  Crusades ;  or 
rather,  I  should  say,  for  I  am  too  fast, — that,  as  a  reason 
for  the  existence  of  the  orders  of  the  Knights  Templars, 
and  of  St.  John, — the  frequent  unprovoked  attacks  by 
bandits  on  the  palmers,  in  the  rocky  defiles  between 
Jerusalem  and  Jericho,  has  been  given.  The  Knights 
Templars  received  their  title,  it  seems,  from  the  fact  that 
in  1119,  they  lodged  in  the  Royal  Palace  adjoining  the 
Temple. 

After  surmounting  many  difficulties,  the  Crusaders  con- 
quered Jerusalem,  in  1099.  This  triumph  was  complete, 
and  for  eighty-eight  years  their  sway  was  undisputed. 
They  made  many  additions  to  the  city,  among  others  was 
the  complete  rebuilding  of  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre. 
in  a  style  of  great  splendor  and  richness.  At  the  expira- 
tion of  eighty-eight  years,  however,  the  city  fell  a  prey 
to  Saladin's  victorious  arm,  and  then  the  city  underwent 
much  spoliation  and  mutilation.  In  1229,  the  Christians 
once  more  obtained  possession  of  Jerusalem,  but  this  time 
by  treaty.  A  few  years  afterwards  it  was  again  taken 
from  them  vi  et  armis.  «  Four  years  later,  the  Christians 
again  obtained  possession,  but  in  a  few  months  (a.  d. 
1243),  they  were  driven  out  for  the  last  time;  and  the 


180  RELIGIOUS    SECTS. 


Holv  City  haa  ever  since  remained  under  the  sway  of  the 
haughty  Muslem." 

A-  regards  the  religioruof  Jerusalem,  or  the  representor 
Hvea  of  different  religions,  little  need  be  said  here,  as 
what  I  have  written  in  the  pages,  introductory  to  the 
Journal,  of  the  religions  of  Syria  and  Palestine,  applies 
equally  here.  1  shall,  therefore,  simply  enumerate  the 
different  sects,  and  make  a  few  remarks  upon  them.  The 
religious  orders  are  three,  to  wit : — Mohammedans,  Jews, 
and  Christians;  that  is,  Greeks,  Latins, Armenians, Geor- 
gians, Copts,  and  Syrians,  and  what  we  consider  Chris- 
tians proper,  that  is, Protestants.     The  Mohammedans  are 

>  rally  or  chiefly  natives  of  Syria;  they  outnumber 
any  other  sect.  The  Jews  rank  next,  in  point  of  num- 
bers. They  are  divided  by  a  schism,  and  are  known  in 
two  classes  :  the  Askenn*'uit  and  the  Sephardim.  The 
latter  have  the  greatest  number  of  members,  but  the 
ranks  of  the  first,  who  are  generally  foreign  Jews,  are 
rapidly  filling.  There  is  more  poverty  and  abjection 
among  the  Jews,  particularly  among  the  Askenasim,  than 
in  any  other  sect  in  the  country. 

Among  the  so-called  Christian  sects — so-called,  I  say, 
'■.■cause  they  are  Christian  solely  inname, — the  most  deadly 
animosity  existing  between  them  and  the  other  sects — the 
eks  have  the  largest  number.  They  are  the  most 
( ipulent  also,  and  very  naturally  the  most  powerful.  They 
have  eight  convents  and  five  nunneries  in  Jerusalem ; 
these,  they  own  the  neighboring  convents  of  "  Mar 
Saba,  Mar  Elias,  the  convent  of  the  nativity  at  Bethle- 
hem, and  the  convent  of  the  Cross."     The  Latins  rank 


RELIGIOUS     SECTS.  381 


next,  numerically  speaking,  amounting  to  thirteen  hun- 
dred souls.  Like  the  Mohammedans,  they  are  mostly 
native.  How  these  Latins  manage  to  clothe  themselves, 
and  by  what  means  gain  a  living,  is  more  than  I  can 
understand.  The  wise  St.  Jerome  was  the  most  cele- 
brated of  the  Latins  that  ever  lived  in  Syria,  and  his 
influence  gave  a  powerful  impetus  to  his  religion  there. 
The  first  regular  monastery  they  held,  was  Sancta  Maria 
de  Latina.  It  afterwards  became  the  "  Hospital  of  the 
Knights  of  St.  John,"  to  which  I  have  referred.  There 
are  now  fourteen  large  convents  in  Syria,  which,  to  the 
tourist,  present  indeed  "  oases  in  the  desert,"  for  in  them 
he  generally  can  find  a  home  and  an  asylum. 

The  Armenians,  who  own  the  splendid  convent  on  Mt. 
Zion,  which  I  have  previously  mentioned,  and  the  really 
gorgeous  Church  of  St.  James,  which  our  party  visited, 
number  nearly  three  hundred.  They  are  foreigners, 
generally  speaking,  and  number  some  of  the  most  learned 
men  in  Jerusalem.  They  are  humble,  and  very  polite  in 
manner ;  in  fact,  this  trait  seems  to  be  characteristic  of 
them  everywhere.  I  noticed  it  at  the  Armenian  convent 
in  the  Lagoon,  at  Venice. 

The  Copts  and  Syrians  own  one  or  two  small  convents. 
They  are  few  in  number.  The  Georgians,  once  the 
richest  and  most  influential  Christian  sect  in  Jerusalem, 
now  scarcely  have  an  existence. 

Besides  these  sects,  there  is  a  Protestant  community,, 
numbering  about  one  hundred  members.  Samuel  Gobat, 
D.  D.,  an  able  divine,  a  learned  scholar,  and  a  good  man, 
is  Bishop;  the  service  being  Church  of  England.     There 


382  w     i  M  PORT  \  N  r    QU  BSTION. 


is  an  English  chapel  attached  to  the  Consulate,  and  ser- 
vices arc  there  performed  regularly,  in  Spanish,  English, 
and  German.  There  is  also  in  the  city,  I  believe,  a  Pro- 
testant "Jews'  Society,"  also  a  Prussian  "  Protestant  So- 
eietv."  1  think  services  are  held  at  the  house  of  Dr. 
Barclay .  every  Sabbath. 

I  might  a-  well,  in  this  place,  consider  that  important 
question,  one  which  has  vexed  so  many  able  writers,  and 
harassed  still  more  the  upholders,  of  certain  religious 
faiths,  tfa  gt  nuineness  of  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre.  The 
identity  of  the  present  site,  with  the  actual  place  of  the 
Saviour's  sepulture,  rests,  to  say  the  least,  on  a  very  shallow 
bads,  a  basis  far  from  being  sufficient  for  a  plausible  foun- 
dation. The  refutation  of  all  arguments,  which  go  to 
establish  said  identity,  turns  chiefly  on  the  correct  course 
of  the  second  wall  (the  one  which  encircled  Akra)  ;  in 
other  words,  on  the  position  of  the  hill  Akra  itself.  We 
know  from  the  testimony  of  the  different  Gospels,  that 
Jesus  was  crucified  without  the  gates,  "nigh  to  the  city." 
This  was  the  ancient  city,  moreover,  whose  walls  were 
much  more  extensive  than  those  of  the  present.  We  also 
know  that  He  was  laid  in  a  sepulchre  in  a  garden  near 
the  spot  of  crucifixion,  or  at  the  place  itself  (John  xix. 
41-42).  As  I  said  above,  we  well  know  from  the  writings 
of  Josephus  and  others,  and  also  from  the  revealed  testi- 
mony  of  discovered  substructures,  that  the  ancient  walls 
extended  in  greater  circuit  than,  in  other  words,  included 
the  present  walls.     "Without  the  gate,"  and  "nigh  unto 

the  city,"  cannot,  and   did   not    mean,  inside   the  walls. 

There  can  exist  no  rain,, ml  doubt  to  the  supposition  that  the 


AN     IMPORTANT    QUESTION.  383 


Church  of  the  Sepulchre  stands  within  the  third  wall,  built 
by  Agrippa,  eleven  years  after  the  crucifixion.     This 
wall  was  built  to  enclose  the  suburbs  which  had  sprung 
up,  and  suburbs  cannot,  by  any  stretch  of  translation,  be 
made  to  signify  nigh  to  the  City.     The  phraseology  would 
have  been  different  had  such  been  the  aim  of  the  Evange- 
lists.    "Nigh  unto   the  city,"  means   any  distance,  com- 
paratively.    But  the  upholders  of  the  genuineness  of  the 
Tomb  of  Jesus  make  the  geographical  or  topographical 
position  of  Akra  different  from  that  which  I  have  given 
(and  others,  more   learned,  give).     They  reverse   Akra 
from  beside  Zion,  to  the  ridge  extending  from  the  Haram 
to  the  Grotto  of  Jeremiah,  and    make   the   sacred  wall 
start  from  a  point  nearly  half-way  between  the  citadel 
and  the  Haram,  run  north  along  the  covered  bazaar  until 
it  just  clears  the  east  end  of  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre, 
then  turns  a  little  to  the  west,  so  as  to  include  the  ancient 
foundations   around  the   Damascus  Gate."     If  we  admit 
that  such  is  true,  in  the  words  of  another,  "  it  would  yet 
not  be  very  easy  to  believe,  that  such  a  singular  angle  as 
is  thus   made   to   run   into  the  very  heart  of  the   city, 
should  have  been  wholly  free  from  buildings,  and  used  as 
a  place  of  ordinary  sepulture,  so  late  as  the  time  of  the  cru- 
cifixion ;  and  that  only  eleven  years  afterwards,  Agrippa 
should  have  found  it  necessary  to  build  a  wall  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  beyond  it,  so  as  to  include  the  suburbs." 

But  without  all  of  these  words  and  well-based  arguments, 
I  think  the  whole  matter  may  be  conscientiously  settled 
thus : — make  it  a  question,  as  to  ivhether  the  old  walls 
enclosed,  the  space  of  the  present.      There  exists  not  the 


18  \  \  N     l  M  POB  MM'    QB  ES  riON. 

slightest  doubt  hut  that  they  did,  as  we  find  substructions 
beyond  the  Line  of  the  present  north-western  walls,  which 
includes  that  Bide)  any  way — and  thai  is  all  we  wish,  for 
the  Church  o['  tla>  Sepulchre  is  in  that  portion  of  the 
city,  and  Lies  not  only  within  the  ancient  ruined  wall,  but 
also  within,  as  we  all  know,  the  present  enclosure  of  the 
city.  Again,  it  is  not  doubted  but  that  the  very  ancient 
Pool  of  lle/.ekiah.  not  far  from  the  Tower  of  llippieus, 
ami  within  the  present  wall,  was  enclosed  by  tJu  ancient 
wall.  Singular,  indeed,  must  have  been  the  angle  which 
included  it.  and  excluded  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre. 
But  waiving  all  this,  is  it  not  a  little  singular  that  the 
place  of  the  "  honored  dead,"  such  as  Jesus  Christ,  should 
remain  unmentioned  by  the  apostles?  We  never  hear 
of  pious  pilgrims  journeying  to  it,  in  the  days  of  Matthew, 
Mark,  Luke,  and  John — and  John,  wrote  at  least  eighty 
years  after  the  curtain  closed  on  the  last  scene  of  the 
Drama  of  Redemption.  And  Paul,  though  in  Jerusalem 
Beveral  times  after  the  crucifixion,  never  once  refers  to 
the  scene  of  the  Saviour's  passion.  He  never  visited  it — 
or,  if  he  did,  he  attached  so  little  importance  to  the  circum- 
stance, that  he  did  not  record  it.  Singular  again,  it  is,  too, 
that  this  holy  spot  should  have  been  so  well  remembered, 
without  even  a  tradition  to  transmit  it  to  posterity  for 
over  three  hundred  years!  The  chequered  history  of 
Jerusalem,  under  Jewish  and  Roman  rule,  did  not  tend 
to  facilitate  or  foster  the  remembrance  of  sacred  localities. 
Recalling,  too,  the  different  vicissitudes  through  which 
th<-  Holy  City  has  passed — what  its  different  inhabitants 
suffered  and  acted — a  simple  recollection  in  this  direction 


AN     IMPORTANT    QUESTION.  385 


will  tell  us  it  is  absurd  to  believe  that  the  site  of  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  could  be  determined  after  the  long  lapse 
of  three   hundred  years.      Truly,  they  could  then  keep 
secrets  better  than  those  of  the  present  generation.     Still 
more  absurd  it  is  to  believe  in   the   instrumentality  of 
divine    agency,    concerned    in    indicating    these    spots, 
although  this  is  well  made  use  of  by  the  holy  fathers ; 
and  if  we  would  believe  every  monkish  legend  told  us, 
then  to  believe  that  the  present  roof  of  the  Church  of 
the   Sepulchre   covers   the   sarcophagus   in   which   Jesus' 
body  once  rested,  would  not  require  much  persuasion — 
it  would  be  natural.     But — a  grave  but,  too — common  sense 
most  claims  its  votaries ;  they  outnumber,  I  am  thinking, 
those  who  believe  in  the  sepulchre  and  its  identity.     On 
this  subject  we  have  Eusebius  (about  the  earliest),  Sozo- 
mon,  and  Theodoret ;  they  all  uphold  the  genuineness  of 
the  Sepulchre,  but  they  contradict  one  another,  even  as 
regards  the  founder  of  the  first  edifice  on  the  hallowed 
spot,  one  saying  that  it  was  Constantine,  the  other  two, 
that  it  was  that  Emperor's  mother,  Helena ;  the  discovery 
of  the    holy  places    and    sacred   objects   of  wonder,  the 
crown  of  thorns,  the  crosses,  &c,  &c,  being  attributed  to 
the  latter,  also.     Be  this  as  it  may,  the  whole  pack  of 
legends,  each  and  every  one,  separately  and  collectively, 
all  rightly  judging,  conscientious  persons,  must  regard  in 
the  same  light  as  they  do   the  exploit  of  the  fiery  Phoe- 
bus and  his  sun-chariot  steeds, — as  a  myth.     Fain  would 
we  believe  everything  told  us,  word  for  word,  consistent 
with   Christian  feelings,  for,  "could    we   guarantee   the 
genuineness  of  the  site,  no  spot  in  Jerusalem  would  be 


25 


Till:    BOLT     FIRE. 

more  deeplj  interesting  than  the  Holy  Sepulchre."  The 
association,  indeed,  would  be  overpowering,  could  we  stand 
over  thai  rock  coffin,  and  Bay,    "Hen  owe  fay  in  the  still- 

s  of  death,  Jesus  Christ,  th    Son  of  Man."     With  this 
brief  notice  we  pass  the  subject  by. 

Perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  in  this  place  to  mention 
tin-  wondrous  (?)  appearance  of  the   Holy  Fire  from  the 
tomb  of  the  Saviour  on   Easter-eve — a  fire  which  comes 
from  heaven. — (broughtbya  Greek  priest) ;  to  which,  who- 
soever can  apply  "  his  smoking  flax"  is  a  regenerated  soul, 
guaranteed   the  privileges  and  immunities  of  Paradise! 
How  this  singular  mystery  (?)  commenced  is  not  known; 
but  1  believe  it  was  in  this  wise: — Long  years  ago  there 
was    need    of  oil    for  filling   the  lamps   which  overhung 
the  tomb  of  the  Saviour.     In  this  hour  of  need  an  angel 
appeared,   and  very   kindly,  after  filling   the  lamps,   lit 
them  with  celestial  fire !     Ever  since  that  time  there  has 
been  a  periodical  appearance  of  the  sacred  flame.     Thou- 
sands of  waxen   tapers  are  now  yearly  manufactured  for 
the  occasion,  and  are  ever  -old  to  a  ready,  even  greedy, 
market.     Every  one  who  can  apply  his  taper  to  the  holy 
flame  is  sure  of  a  shining  crown  in  the  heavenly  realms! 
Somewhat  singular,  however,  it  is,  that  the  Divine  Power 
Bhould  need  just  a  little  assistance  from  the  worthy  Greek 
Patriarch.     Me  always  first  enters  the  tomb,  and  then  the 
flame  speedily  issues  forth!      Bloody  times  are  frequently 
included   in   the  programme;   and    untold  evils  are   the 
natural    sequences  of  this   most    flagrant  imposture.     It 
was  to  witness  the  l«,hj  fire  ceremony  that  our  good  friend 


THE     HOLT     FIRE.  387 


Montag,  the  valiant  "  Hussar,"  who  figures  in  the  Journal, 
remained  in  Jerusalem. 

It  seems  that,  at  first,  this  humbugging  ceremony  was 
entered  into  and  observed  by  all  the  sects  or  churches  in 
Jerusalem.  Owing,  however,  to  a  rupture  between  the 
Latins  and  Greeks,  the  former  denounced  the  whole 
affair  as  a  trickery,  and  exposed  the  gross  imposition. 
Then  followed  the  Armenians,  who  always  regarded  the 
affair  as  a  base  fraud.  And  even  the  heads  of  the  Greek 
Church,  who  alone  continue  the  observance  of  the  cere- 
mony, wish  to  cease  with  the  annual  exhibitions ;  but  they 
fear  "  the  shock  which  this  step  would  give  to  the  devo- 
tion and  faith  of  the  thousands,  who  yearly  come,  far  and 
near,  over  land  and  sea,  for  this  sole  object." 

I  take  from  Porter  the  following  graphic  description  of 
the  ceremonies  of  the  occasion.  It  is  by  the  elegant 
writer,  Mr.  Stanley  : — 

"  The  Chapel  of  the  Sepulchre  rises  from  a  dense  mass 
of  pilgrims,  who  sit  or  stand  wedged  around  it ;  whilst 
round  them,  and  between  another  equally  dense  mass, 
which  goes  round  the  walls  of  the  church  itself,  a  lane  is 
formed  by  two  lines,  or  rather  two  circles,  of  Turkish 
soldiers,  stationed  to  keep  order.  For  the  spectacle  which 
is  about  to  take  place,  nothing  can  be  better  suited  than 
the  form  of  the  rotunda,  giving  galleries  above  for  the 
spectators,  and  an  open  space  below  for  the  pilgrims  and 
their  festival.  For  the  first  two  hours  everything  is  tran- 
quil. Nothing  indicates  what  is  corning,  except  that  two 
or  three  pilgrims,  who  have  got  close  to  the  aperture,  keep 
their  hands  fixed  in  it,  with  a  clinch  never  relaxed.     It 


388  THE     H0L1      FIRE. 

is  about  noon  that  this  circular  lane  is  suddenly  broken 

through,  l>\  a  tangled  group  rushing  violently  round  till 
the}  are  caught  by  one  of  the  Turkish  soldiers.  It,  seems 
to  be  the  belief  of  the  Arab  Greeks  that   unless  they 

run  round  the  sepulchre  a  certain  number  of  times,  the 
tire  will  not  come.  Possibly,  also,  there  is  some  strange 
reminiscence  of  the  former  games  and  races  round  the 
tomb  of  their  ancient  chief.  Accordingly,  the  night 
before,  and  from  this  time  forward,  for  two  hours,  a 
succession  of  gambols  takes  place,  which  an  Englishman 
can  only  compare  to  a  mixture  of  prisoner's  base,  foot- 
hall,  and  Leap-frog,  round  and  round  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 
First  he  sees  those  tangled  masses  of  twenty,  thirty,  fifty 
men,  starting  in  a  run,  catching  hold  of  each  other,  lifting 
one  of  themselves  on  their  shoulders,  sometimes  on  their 
heads,  and  rushing  on  with  him  till  he  leaps  off,  and 
some  one  else  succeeds.  Some  of  them  dressed  in  sheep- 
skins, some  almost  naked,  one  usually  preceding  the  rest 
as  a  fugleman,  clapping  his  hands,  to  which  they  respond 
in  like  manner,  adding  also  wild  howls,  of  which  the 
chief  burden  is — -This  is  the  tomb  of  Jesus  Christ — God 
save  the  Sultan — Jesus  Christ  has  redeemed  us!'  What 
begins  in  the  lesser  groups  soon  grows  in  magnitude  and 
extent,  till  at  last  the  whole  of  the  circle  between  the 
troops  is  continually  occupied  by  a  race,  a  whirl  or 
torrent  of  these  wild  figures,  like  the  witches'  sabbath  in 
'Faust/  wheeling  round  the  sepulchre.  Gradually  the 
frenzy  subsides,  or  is  checked,  the  course  is  cleared,  and 
out  of  tie'  Greek  ('lunch,  on  the  east  of  the  rotunda,  a 
long  procession,  with  embroidered  banners,  supplying  in 


THE     HOLY    FIRE.  389 


this  ritual  the  want  of  images,  begins  to  defile  round  the 
sepulchre. 

"  From  this  moment  the  excitement,  which  has  been 
before  confined  to  the  runners  and  dancers,  becomes 
universal.  Hedged  in  by  soldiers,  the  two  huge  masses 
of  pilgrims  still  remain  in  their  places,  all  joining,  how- 
ever, in  a  wild  succession  of  yells,  through  which  are 
caught,  from  time  to  time,  strangely,  almost  affectingly 
mingled,  the  chants  of  the  procession,  the  solemn  eh  ants 
of  the  church  of  Basil  and  Chrysostom,  mingled  with  the 
yells  of  savages.  Thrice  the  procession  passes  round  ;  and 
the  third  time  the  two  lines  of  Turkish  soldiers  join  and 
fall  in  behind.  One  great  movement  sways  the  multitude 
from  side  to  side.  The  crisis  of  the  day  is  now  approach- 
ing. The  presence  of  the  Turks  is  believed  to  prevent 
the  descent  of  fire,  and  at  this  point  it  is  that  they  are 
driven,  or  consent  to  be  driven,  out  of  the  church.  In  a 
moment  the  confusion  as  of  a  battle  and  a  victory  per- 
vades the  church.  In  every  direction  the  raging  mob 
bursts  in  upon  the  troops,  who  pour  out  of  the  church  at 
the  south-east  corner.  The  procession  is  broken  through 
— the  banners  stagger  and  waver.  They  stagger,  and 
waver,  and  fall,  amidst  the  flight  of  priests,  bishops,  and 
standard-bearers,  hither  and  thither  before  the  tremen- 
dous rush.  In  one  small  but  compact  band  the  Bishop 
of  Petra  (who  is  on  this  occasion  the  Bishop  of '  the  Fire,' 
the  representative  of  the  patriarch),  is  hurried  into  the 
chapel  of  the  sepulchre,  and  the  door  is  closed  behind 
him.  The  whole  church  is  now  one  heaving  sea  of  heads. 
One  vacant  spot  alone  is  left — a  narrow  lane  from  the 


mi:    BOLT     FIRE. 


aperture  on  the  north  side  of  the  chape]  to  the  wall  of 
the  church.  By  the  aperture  itself  stands  a  priesl  to 
catch  the  fire.  On  each  side  of  the  lane  hundreds  of 
bare  anus  arc  stretched  out  like  the  branches  of  a  leaf- 
less  forest — like   the   branches  of  a   forest  quivering  in 

some  violent  tempest At  last   the  moment  comes. 

A  bright  Same,  as  of  burning  wood,  appears  inside  the 
hole — tlie  light,  as  ever}  educated  Greek  knows  and 
acknowledges,  kindled  by  the  bishop  within — the  tight, 
as  every  pilgrim  believes,  of  the  descent  of  God  Himself 
upon  the  holy  tomb.  Any  distinct  feature  or  incident  is 
lost  in  the  universal  whirl  of  excitement  which  envelops 
the  church,  as  slowly,  gradually,  the  fire  spreads  from  hand 
to  hand,  from  taper  to  taper,  through  that  vast  multitude 
— till  at  last  the  whole  edifice,  from  gallery  to  gallery, 
and  through  the  area  helow.  is  one  wide  blaze  of  thou- 
sands of  burning  candles.  It  is  now  that,  according  to 
some  accounts,  the  bishop  or  patriarch  is  carried  out  of 
the  chapel  in  triumph,  on  the  shoulders  of  the  people,  in 
a  fainting  state,  •  to  give  the  impression  that  he  is  over- 
come by  the  glory  of  the  Almighty,  from  whose  imme- 
diate presence  he  is  believed  to  come.'  It  is  now  that 
the  great  rush  to  escape  from  the  rolling  smoke  and  suf- 
focating  heat,  and  to  carry  the  lighted  tapers  into  the 
streets  and  houses  of  Jerusalem,  through  the  one  entrance 
to  the  church,  leads  ;it  times  to  the  violent  pressure  which, 
in  1834,  cost  the  lives  of  hundreds.  For  a  short  time  the 
pilgrims  run  to  and  fro,  rubbing  their  faces  and  breasts 
ust  tii'-  lire,  to  attest  its  supposed  harmlessness.  But 
tii"  wild  enthusiasm   terminates  from  the  moment  that 


THE     HOLT     FIRE.  391 


the  fire  is  communicated;  and,  perhaps,  not  the  least 
extraordinary  part  of  the  spectacle  is  the  rapid  and  total 
subsidence  of  a  frenzy  so  intense — the  contrast  of  the 
furious  agitation  of  the  morning  with  the  profound  repose 
of  the  evening,  when  the  church  is  once  again  filled — 
through  the  area  of  the  Rotunda,  the  chapels  of  Copt  and 
Syrian,  the  subterranean  Church  of  Helena,  the  great 
nave  of  Constantine's  basilica,  the  stairs  and  platform  of 
Calvary  itself,  with  the  many  chambers  above — every 
part,  except  the  one  chapel  of  the  Latin  Church,  filled 
and  overlaid  by  one  mass  of  pilgrims,  wrapt  in  deep 
sleep,  and  waiting  for  the  midnight  service. 

"  Such  is  the  Greek  Easter — the  greatest  moral  argu- 
ment against  the  identity  of  the  spot  which  it  professes 
to  honor — stripped  indeed  of  some  of  its  most  revolting 
features,  yet  still,  considering  the  place,  the  time,  and  the 
intention  of  the  professed  miracle,  probably  the  most 
offensive  imposture  to  be  found  in  the  world." 

The  following  by  Curzon,  taken  from  the  same  author, 
shows  the  dangers  and  riots  sometimes  attendant  on  the 
"  Fire"  exhibition  : — 

"  The  guards  outside,  frightened  at  the  rush  from 
within,  thought  that  the  Christians  wished  to  attack  them, 
and  the  confusion  soon  grew  into  a  battle.  The  soldiers 
with  their  bayonets  killed  numbers  of  fainting  wretches, 
and  the  walls  were  spattered  with  blood  and  brains  of 
men  who  had  been  felled,  like  oxen,  with  the  butt-ends  of 
the  soldiers'  muskets.  Every  one  struggled  to  defend 
himself,  and,  in  the  melee,  all  who  fell  were  immediately 
trampled  to  death  by  the  rest.     So  desperate  and  savage 


392  THE     in 'i.v     FIRE. 


did  the  light  become,  that  even  the  panic-struck  and 
frightened  pilgrims  appeared  at  last  to  have  been  more 
intent  udod  the  destruction  of  each  other  than  desirous 

to  Bave  themselves.  For  niv  part,  as  soon  as  I  had  per- 
ceived the  danger,  I  had  cried  out  to  my  companions  to 
turn  hack,  which  they  had  done;  but  I  myself  was  car- 
ried on  by  the  press,  till  I  came  near  the  door,  where  all 
were  fighting  tor  their  Lives.  Here,  seeing  certain  destruc- 
tion before  me.  1  made  every  endeavor  to  get  back.  An 
officer  of  the  pacha's,  equally  alarmed  with  myself,  was 
also  trying  to  return;  he  caught  hold  of  my  cloak,  and 
pulled  me  down  on  the  body  of  an  old  man  who  was 
breathing  out  his  last  sigh.  As  the  officer  was  pressing 
me  to  the  ground,  we  wrestled  together  among  the  dying 
and  the  dead  with  the  energy  of  despair.  I  struggled 
with  this  man  till  1  pulled  him  down,  and  happily  got 
again  upon  my  legs  (I  afterwards  found  that  he  never 
rose   again),    and,  scrambling  over   a   pile   of  corpses,   I 

made  my  wa\   back   into  the   body  of  the  church 

The  dead  were  lying  in  heaps,  even  upon  the  Stone  of 
Unction  ;  and  I  saw  full  four  hundred  wretched  people, 
dead  and  dying,  heaped  promiscuously  one  upon  another, 
in  -nine  places  live  feet  high." 

To  the  Hospital  of  St.  John  I  have  referred  sufficiently 
fully  in  my  Journal ;  and  I  shall  therefore  now  consider, 
as  briefly  as  possible,  the  Temple  of  old,  and  the  present 
llaram  area. 

Tie-  site  of  the  ancient  Jewish  Temple  is  a  matter  of 
dispute:  that  it  was  situated  on  the  very  summit  of 
Mount  Moriah.  where  stands  at  this  dav,  the  noble  edifice 


THE     TEMPLE.  393 

— the  Mosque  of  Omar — we  have  many  reasons  to  believe. 
Yet  it  is  pretty  certain  that  the  Temple  area  corresponded 
very  accurately  with  the  present  Haram  enclosure,  with 
this  exception — the  Haram  area  is  larger  and  is  oblong, 
the  Temple  area  being  six  hundred  feet  square. 

The  first  building  of  the  Temple,  its  successive 
destructions  and  rebuildings,  and  its  final  complete 
demolishment,  I  have  given  before.  It  is  useless  in  this 
place  to  refer  to  that  portion  again.  I  copy  from  a 
reliable  author  the  following  condensed  history  of  the 
Temple  from  Josephus.  The  author  from  whom  I  copy 
gives  it  as  nearly  as  possible  in  the  language  of  Dr. 
Robinson  : — 

"  The  Temple  was  situated  on  a  rocky  eminence. 
Originally  the  level  space  on  the  summit  scarcely  sufficed 
for  the  sanctuary  and  the  altar,  the  sides  being  every- 
where steep  and  precipitous.  But  Solomon,  who  built 
the  sanctuary,  having  completely  walled  up  the  eastern 
side  of  the  hill,  built  a  colonnade  on  the  embankment. 
On  the  other  three  sides  the  sanctuary  remained  exposed. 
In  process  of  time,  however,  as  the  people  were  constantly 
adding  to  the  embankment,  the  hill  became  level  and 
broader.  They  also  threw  down  the  northern  wall,  and 
enclosed  as  much  ground  as  the  circuit  of  the  Temple 
subsequently  occupied.  After  having  surrounded  the  hill 
from  the  base  with  a  triple  wall,  and  accomplished  a 
work  which  surpassed  all  expectation — a  work  on  which 
long  ages  were  consumed,  and  all  their  sacred  treasures 
exhausted,  though  replenished  by  the  tribute  offered  to 


.",'.i|  THE     TEMPLE. 


God  from  every  region  of  the  world — the}  built  the  upper 
boundary  walla  and  the  lower  courl  of  the  Temple. 

"The  lowest  part  of  the  latter  they  buill  up  from  a  depth 
of  three  hundred  cubits,  and  in  some  places  more.  The 
entire  depth  of  the  foundations,  however,  was  not  discerni- 
ble; for,  with  a  view  to  level  the  streets  of  the  town, 
they  filled  up  the  ravines  to  a  considerable  extent. 
There  were  stones  used  in  this  building  which  measured 
forty  cubits;  for  so  ample  was  the  supply  ol*  money,  and 
Buch  the  zeal  of  the  people,  that  incredible  Buccess 
attended  the  undertaking;  and  that  of  which  hope  itself 
could  not  anticipate  the  accomplishment,  was  by  time  and 
perseverance  completed. 

••  Nor  was  the  superstructure  unworthy  of  such  founda- 
tions. The  colonnades,  double  throughout,  were  supported 
by  pillars  twenty-live  cubits  high,  each  a  single  block  of 
white  marble.  The  ceilings  were  of  panelled  cedar. 
The  colonnades  (or  cloisters)  were  thirty  cubits  wide,  and 
their  entire  circuit,  including  Antonia,  measured  six 
stadia.  The  open  court  was  covered  with  tessellated 
pavement.  As  you  advanced  through  this  to  the  second 
court,  you  came  to  a  stone  balustrade,  drawn  all  round, 
three  cubits  high,  and  of  exquisite  workmanship.  On 
this  st, ,oil  tablets  at  regular  intervals,  some  in  Greek, 
others  in  Latin,  indicating  that  no  foreigner  was  permitted 
to  pass  this  boundary.  Within  the  barrier  you  ascended 
by  fourteen  steps  to  a  level  terrace,  ten  cubits  wide. 
encircling  the  wall  of  the  inner  court,  and  from  this 
terrace  jive  steps  more  led  to  the  inner  court,  which  was 
Burrounded  by  a  wall  forty  cubits  high  on  the  outside, 


THE     TEMPLE.  895 


but  only  twenty-five  within.  The  principal  gate  of  the 
inner  court  was  on  the  east ;  but  there  were  also  three  on 
the  north  and  three  on  the  south,  to  which  were  after- 
wards added  three  others  for  women. 

"  Within  the  second  court  was  the  third  or  most  sacred 
enclosure,  which  none  but  the  priests  might  enter ;  con- 
sisting of  the  Temple  itself,  and  the  small  court  before  it, 
where  stood  the  great  altar.  To  this  there  was  an  ascent 
from  the  second  court  by  twelve  steps.  It  was  this  Naos 
alone  which  was  rebuilt  by  Herod;  who  also  built  over 
again  some  of  the  magnificent  cloisters  around  the  area. 
But  no  mention  is  made  of  his  having  had  anything  to 
do  with  the  massive  walls  of  the  exterior  enclosure.  In 
the  centre  of  the  southern  side  of  the  outer  court  was  a 
double  gate,  probably  for  the  use  of  the  Nethinims  who 
dwelt  in  Ophel.  On  its  western  side  were  four  gates ; 
one  opening  on  the  bridge  that  connected  the  Temple 
with  the  Xystus  and  royal  palace ;  two  opening  into  the 
suburb,  perhaps  in  the  upper  part  of  the  Tyropseon ;  and 
one  leading  to  a  road  which  crossed  a  valley  to  Akra. 
There  was  no  gate  either  on  the  east  or  north  side." 

From  this  account,  we  see  that  the  Temple  area  must 
have  been  what  is  the  present  Haram  area — with  the 
exception  as  taken  above.  What  is  singularly  interesting 
to  the  antiquarian  is  the  fact,  that  the  walls  which  to 
this  day  surround  the  Haram  are  undoubtedly  of  a  very 
great  age.  We  have  no  reason  to  think  that  Herod 
improved  them  in  the  slightest  or  disturbed  them  at  all. 
There  are  stones  in  these  walls,  which,  from  certain  signs, 


396  THK     TEMPLE. 


make  us  think  thai  the}  were  put  where  they  now  stand 
even  in  the  da]  a  of  Solomon. 

In  the  circuil    of  the  walls — the  northern,  southern, 

eastern,   and   western — there  are  several   antiquities  of 

which  one  ought  well  take  note:  to  several  of  them  I 
have  before  referred,  and  shall  simply  glance  al  them  now. 
The  walls  of  the  Haram — though  irregular  like  the  walls 
o(  the  city,  yet,  like  the  latter,  four  sides  fronting  the 
cardinal  points — can  be  easily  determined.  All  four  of 
the  walls  show,  in  the  massive  and  peculiarly  bevelled 
-tones  used  in  their  erection,  an  age  dating  back  far  be- 
yond the  Christian;  and  these  walls  are  evidently  those 
of  the  Ancient  Temple  to  the  Most  High,  on  Mount 
Moriah.  Some  of  the  stones,  particularly  in  the  west 
wall,  are  of  enormous  magnitude,  some  measuring  thirty 
feet  in  length,  twelve  wide,  and  five  thick.  How  they 
were  arranged  in  sifi/,  is  a  mystery  to  us.  If  I  mistake 
not,  the  only  stones  superior  to  them  in  size  are  those 
amid  the  ruins  of  Ba'albeck,  and  those  cannot  surpass 
them  much. 

Commencing,  then,  at  the  west  wall,  and  running  its 
entire  length.  I  shall  only  notice  as  its  most  interesting 
antique  feature,  besides  the  wall  itself,  the  ancient  Bridge. 
This  bridge  is  no  doubt  a  genuine  relic  of  those  by-gone 
days  of  times  prim*  to  the  Christian  Era;  in  fact,  I  believe 
there  are  none  who  cavil  about  its  antiquity.  The  bridge, 
as  it  stood  in  all  its  beauty,  was  a  massive  structure, 
indeed,  with  its  five  noble  arches;  its  whole  length  to  Zion, 
whither  it  led,  being  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet.     The 

ties  which  remain  of  it  to  this  day,  indicate  that  it  was 


THE     TEMPLE.  o97 

a  most  magnificent  and  solid  monument  of  art.  All  that 
remains  of  the  bridge  at  this  day,  "  are  three  corners  of 
huge  stones  projecting  from  the  wall  (west),  and  forming 
a  segment  of  an  arch'''  This,  then,  is  that  bridge  by 
which  "  dwellers  on  Zion  were  wont  to  pass  over  to  the 
Holy  Mount  to  worship  God  in  His  Sanctuary.  Across 
it  the  kings  and  princes  of  Israel  proceeded  in  state,  to 
pay  their  vows  to  the  Lord.  And  when  the  Temple  was 
burned  to  the  ground,  and  the  sanctuary  polluted  by  the 
'  abomination  of  desolations,'  Titus  took  his  stand  proba- 
bly over  the  very  spot  where  these  stones  now  spring  from 
the  ancient  wall,  to  make  a  last  appeal  to  the  remnant 
of  tl^e  Jews  to  save  themselves  from  further  carnage,  by 
submission  to  Roman  arms."  It  is,  to  say  the  least,  a 
most  interesting  link  to  past  times. 

In  the  southern  walls  we  find  the  same  massive,  bevel- 
led stones  in  several  tiers,  proving  it  of  the  same  charac- 
ter and  ancient  date  as  the  western.  In  this  wall  we  find 
several  arches,  but  of  Roman  architecture,  and  probably 
filling  the  places  of  ancient  portals.  But  five  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  from  the  eastern  corner,  we  come  to  what  is 
really  the  most  interesting  feature  in  the  whole  Haram 
wall.  It  is  not  far  from  the  junction  of  the  city — with  the 
Haram  wall.  This  relic  is  the  "  section  of  an  arch,  some- 
what resembling  in  style  and  ornament  that  of  the  Golden 
Gate.  The  remaining  portion  of  the  arch  is  covered  by 
the  city  wall;  but  just  under  the  part  exposed  is  a  small 
grated  window,  rather  difficult  of  access,  through  which 
we  get  a  dim  view  of  a  long  subterranean  avenue,  leading 
up  an  inclined  ylane  and  flight  of  steps  to  the  Haram  area. 


Til  i     i  i:  m  ri.r. 


'riii-  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  pieces  of  antiquity  in 
the  whole  of  this  noble  structure.  It  is  neither  an  easy 
nor  a  pleasant  task,  however,  thoroughly  to  examine  it; 
for  Burly  peasants  without,  ami  jealous  black  guards 
'Jcguards  we  might  safely  call  them)  within  the  1  la- 
ram,  arc  apt  to  annoy,  if  not  abuse,  the  explorer.  Thanks, 
however,  to  the  enterprising  spirit  and  skilful  pencil  of 
Mr.  Tipping,  we  are  able  to  form  an  accurate  idea  of  the 
avenue,  and  the  gateway  opening-  into  it,  without,  the 
trouble  of  actual  inspection.  It  is  now  wholly  covered, 
with  the  exception  of  tin1  section  referred  to,  on  the 
east  side,  by  the  modern  building  in  which  the  city 
wall  here  terminates.  In  this  building  are  two  cham- 
bers  adjoining  the  Haram,  one  of  which  is  accessible  from 
within  the  city  wall.  Entering  the  latter,  Mr.  Tipping 
got  to  the  inner  one  through  a  broken  part  of  a  partition 
wall  (since  built  up)  ;  and  from  it  he  found  an  opening 
through  the  ancient  gateway,  to  the  long  subterranean 
passage.  This  ancient  gateway  is  double,  and  its  total 
breadth  is  forty-two  feet.  It  is  divided  by  a  rectangular 
pier,  eight  feet  broad  and  fourteen  deep,  having  a  semi- 
column  on  the  inner  end.  This  central  pier,  and  the 
whole  eastern  and  western  jambs,  are  built  of  bevelled 
-•on  «,  <»f  great  size,  highly  finished,  and  manifestly  of 
the  oldest  type.  The  ornamental  arches  are  stuck  on; 
and  the  small  columns  which  now  stand  on  each  side  of 
tie-  double  entrance,  are  of  modern  date,  having  no 
inection  with  the  ancient  work.  Within  the  gate  is  ;i 
kind  of  entrance-hall,  sixty-three  feet  long  by  forty-two 
wide;    in   the  centre  of  which  is  a  huge  dwarf-column, 


THE     TEMPLE.  399 


twenty-one  feet  high  and  six  and  a  half  in  diameter — a 
single  stone  including  the  capital.  The  capital  is  peculiar, 
bearing  traces  of  a  perpendicular  palm-leaf  ornament, 
which,  Mr.  Ferguson  says,  is  at  least  as  old  as  the  time 
of  Herod.  The  roof  is  vaulted,  of  fine  workmanship; 
the  flattish  arches  springing  from  the  central  monolith 
and  piers,  and  from  pilasters  at  the  sides.  Its  date  cannot 
be  ascertained,  but  it  is  probably  of  the  time  of  Herod. 
Mr.  Tipping's  description  of  the  interior  is  most  important. 
'  The  broad  division  between  the  arches  consists  of  bevelled 
stones  of  cyclopean  dimensions.  The  sides  of  the  long 
passage  (north  of  the  hall)  are  also  built  of  huge,  roughly 
bevelled  stones  ;  but  the  walls  of  the  hall  are,  apparently, 
plain  and  Roman,  though  of  great  size.  This  seeming 
anomaly  perplexed  me  for  a  long  time;  but  at  length, 
and  while  examining  these  side  walls  closely,  I  ascertained, 
from  visible  traces,  that  it  (they)  had  been  bevelled !  but 
that,  in  order  to  construct  side  pilasters  corresponding 
with  the  central  pillar,  and  bearing  the  two  arches  spring- 
ing from  it,  the  bevelling  had  been  chiselled  away;  thus 
affording  a  slight  relief  to  the  pilaster.'  Some  of  the 
stones  in  these  walls  are  thirteen  feet  Ions. 

"  At  the  northern  end  of  this  hall  there  is  a  rise  in  the 
floor  of  several  feet,  up  the  western  section  of  which  is  a 
flight  of  steps.  From  hence  the  vaulted  passage  con- 
tinues, with  a  gentle  ascent,  two  hundred  feet ;  a  range 
of  square  ancient  piers  supporting  the  roof.  From  the 
upper  extremity  of  the  eastern  aisle,  as  we  may  call  it,  a 
broad  staircase  leads  up  to  the  Haram  area,  opening  about 
thirty  feet  in  front  of  the  Mosk-el-Aksa.     The  pier  at  the 


tOO  THE    TEMPLE. 


upper  end  of  tin*  hall  lias  a  Bemi-column  on  each  end; 
and  next  to  it.  northward,  instead  of  a  pier,  is  a  mono- 
lithic column. 

"Josephus  states,  as  we  have  seen,  that  the  southern 
side  iif  the  Temple  area  "had  gates  about  the  middle' 
teov).  The  easy  and  natural  explanation  of 
which  language  IS,  that  there  was  a  double  gateway  in 
the  southern  wall;  and  accordingly  the  double  gateway 
still  exists,  affording  proof  no  less  of  the  accuracy  of  the 
historian,  than  of  the  identity  of  this  section  of  the 
Baram  with  the  ancient  Temple  area.  The  peculiarities 
too  in  the  architecture,  and  the  many  changes  which  have 
been  made  in  it,  seem  to  lead  us  back  to  ages  long  prior 
to  the  days  of  Joseph  us  or  Herod,  perhaps  to  the  time  of 
Solomon  himself,  of  whose  buildings  it  is  said  in  Scrip- 
ture that  they  were  'of  costly  stones,  according  to  the 
measures  of  hewed  stones,  sawed  with  saws,  within  and 
without,  even  from  the  foundation  unto  the  coping.  And 
the  foundation  was  of  costly  stones,  even  great  stones  ;  stones 
of  h  n  cubits  and  stones  of  eight  cubits'  (1  Kings  vii.  9,  10). 

•■  With  the  west  side  of  this  noble  gateway  which  is 
enclosed  in  a  vaulted  chamber  of  Saracenic  work,  the 
bevelled  masonry  ceases ;  and  up  to  the  south-west  corner 
we  have  a  lofty  wall  of  uniform  and  excellent  workman- 
.-hip.  apparently  all  of  the  later  Roman  age.  At  the 
corner  we  again  meet  with  colossal  stones,  bevelled  edges 
and  smooth-hewn  faces.  The  ground  descends  rapidly 
from  the  junction  of  the  city  wall  to  this  place,  and  thus 
reveals  lower  courses  of  masonry  which  are  carried  round 
the  angle  like  those  on  the  south-east." 


THE     TEMPLE.  401 


In  the  eastern  wall  to  the  Haram  the  most  remarkable 
feature  is  the  celebrated  Golden  Gate,  to  which  I  have 
referred  so  fully  in  another  place,  that  I  consider  it  use- 
less to  speak  of  it  again. 

In  the  northern  side  there  is  another  most  interesting 
reminiscence  of  times  long  agone.  It  is  situated  between 
the  pacha's  residence  and  the  east  end  of  the  wall.  It  is 
"  one  of  the  most  remarkable  excavations  in  the  city,  and 
one,  too,  of  great  importance  in  a  topographical  point  of 
view.  It  is  a  vast  fosse  or  tank,  three  hundred  and  sixty 
feet  long,  one  hundred  and  thirty  broad,  and  seventy-five 
deep.  It  was  doubtless  much  deeper,  for  the  bottom  is 
encumbered  by  the  accumulated  rubbish  of  centuries. 
That  it  was  at  one  time  used  as  a  reservoir  is  evident 
from  the  fact  that  the  sides  have  been  covered  with  small 
stones  and  a  thick  coating  of  cement.  It  stretches  along 
the  side  of  the  Haram  wall  eastward  to  within  a  few  feet 
of  the  city  wall  south  of  St.  Stephen's  Gate.  The  west- 
ern end  is  built  up  and  coated  like  the  rest  except  at  the 
south-west  corner,  where  are  the  openings  of  two  high- 
arched  vaults,  which  extend  westward  side  by  side  under 
the  modern  houses.  The  southern  one  is  twelve  feet 
wide  and  the  other  nineteen.  They  are  both  nearly  filled 
up  with  rubbish,  a  heap  of  which  lies  in  the  fosse  before 
them ;  yet  Dr.  Robinson  was  able  to  measure  to  the  dis- 
tance of  100  feet  within  the  northern  one,  and  it  appeared 
to  extend  much  farther.  This  gives  the  whole  excava- 
tion as  far  as  explored  a  length  of  four  hundred  and  sixty 
feet,  nearly  one-half  of  the  entire  breadth  of  the  Haram. 
The  remarks  of  Dr.  Robinson  on  this  great  work  I  a^ree 


26 


102  tin:   temple. 


with:  "1  hold  it  probable  that  this  excavation  was 
anciently  carried  quite  through  the  ridge  of  Bezetha 
along  the  northern  side  of  Antonia  to  its  north-west 
corner;  thus  forming  the  deep  trench  which  (Josephus 
informs  us)  separated  the  fortress  from  the  adjacenl  hill. 
This  (western)  part  was  naturally  filled  up  by  the 
Romans  under  'Titus,  when  they  destroyed  Antonia,  and 
built  up  their  approaches  in  this  quarter  against  the 
Temple.' 

••  The  approach  to  this  great  fosse  is  from  St.  Stephen's 
Gate.  A  narrow  path  leads  along  its  eastern  end.  close 
to  the  city  wall,  to  a  portal  opening  on  the  Haram  called 
Bdb  es-Subdt,  '  the  Gate  of  the  Tribes.'  The  monks  call 
the  fosse  Bethesda,  and  also  the  Sheep  Pool;  thus  making 
it  the  site  of  the  interesting  story  related  in  John  v.  2-9  : 
•  Now  there  is  at  Jerusalem  by  the  sheep  market  (or  gate, 
Neh.  iii.  1),  a  pool,  which  is  called  in  the  Hebrew  tongue 
Bethesda,  having  five  porches.'  The  two  arches  in  the 
western  end  they  identify  with  two  of  the  'five  porches.' 
There  is  not  a  shadow'  of  evidence,  however,  for  this  tra- 
dition." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

AVING  thus  spoken  of  the   relics  of  antiquity  in 

]J^')   the    course    of  the   four  walls,  I  would    mention 

J$p    that  the   three   objects   most  deserving   attention 

Q)      inside  the  Haram  area  are  the  celebrated  Kubbet- 

es-Sukhrah  or  Mosque  of  Omar,  Mosque  el-Aksa,  and  the 

site  of  the  Fortress  of  Antonia,  to  all  of  which,  save  the 

latter,  repeated  reference  has  been  made ;  and  as  so  many 

arguments,  pro  and  con,  have  been  advanced  concerning 

the  identity  of  the  last,  there  exists  too  much  confusion 

for  me  to  say  anything  more  on  a  subject  of  which  I  know 

comparatively  nothing.     My  opinion  is  embodied  in  these 

few  words  :    I  believe  the  Fortress  of  Antonia,  of  which 

Josephus  speaks,  occupied  a  section  of  the  northern  wall. 

There  is  much  that  could  be  said  of  the  different  tombs 
of  note,  sacred  and  historic,  which  cluster  everywhere 
in  the  valleys,  and  on  the  hillsides  of  the  Holy  City, 
which  would  be  interesting,  I  think,  to  traveller,  theo- 
logian, and  general  reader.  The  space  of  this  volume 
forbids  anything  like  an  extended  notice  of  this  sub- 
ject. Having  referred  rather  minutely  in  my  Journal, 
to  the  Pillar  of  Absalom,  Tombs  of  Zechariah,  St.  James, 
and  Jehoshaphat,  I  pass  them  by  without  a  notice,  and 
shall  consider  briefly  others  of  as  much  interest,  to  which, 

(403) 


Hi  THE    TOMB    OF    DAVID. 


from  the  crowded  state  of  mv  Journal,  I  have  made  no 
reference. 

The  most  interesting,  in  many  points  of  view,  of  these 
tombs,  is  thai  of  David:  we  know  from  Scripture,  that 
David  and  his  house  (not  literally  Bpeaking)  were  buried 
in  Zion.  The  French  explorer,  M.  de  Saulcy,  thinks  this 
a  mistake — the  Book  of  Books  notwithstanding.  As 
Porter  very  curtly  Bays,  however,  "most  persons  will 
prefer  the  testimony  of  Scripture  to  the  theory  of  a 
Frenchman."  At  the  time  of  the  writing  of  the  Acts  of 
the  Apostles,  we  have  full  and  decided  evidence  of  the 
[•reservation  of  David's  Tomb.  Peter  says  (Acts  ii.  29), 
••  He  is  both  dead  and  buried,  and  his  sepulchre  is  with 
us  unto  this  day."  The  sepulchre  of  King  David  is  men- 
tioned several  times  at  later  periods,  and  some  singular, 
if  not  amusing  stories  are  told  in  connection  with  it. 
The  following  is  by  one  Benjamin,  of  Tudela.  It  is  very 
extravagant,  to  bestow  on  it  the  very  mildest  criticism. 
"  On  Mount  Zion  are  the  sepulchres  of  the  house  of 
David,  and  those  of  the  kings  who  reigned  after  him. 
In  consequence  of  the  following  circumstance,  this  place 
is  hardly  to  be  recognised.  Fifteen  years  ago,  one  of  the 
walls  of  the  church  on  Zion  (the  Ceenaculum),  fell  down, 
and  the  patriarch  commanded  the  priest  to  repair  it.  He 
ordered  stones  to  be  taken  from  the  original  wall  of  Zion 
for  that  purpose,  and  twenty  workmen  were  hired  at 
stated  wages,  who  broke  -tones  taken  from  the  very  foun- 
dation of  the  wall  of  Zion.  Two  laborers  thus  employed, 
found  a  -tone  which  covered  the  mouth  of  a  cave.  This 
they  entered  in  search  of  treasures,  and  proceeded  until 


THE     CCENACULUM.  405 


they  reached  a  large  hall,  supported  by  pillars  of  marble, 
encrusted  with  gold  and  silver,  and  before  which  stood  a 
table,  with  a  golden  sceptre  and  crown.  This  was  the 
sepulchre  of  David ;  to  the  left  they  saw  that  of  Solomon 
in  a  similar  state ;  and  so  on,  the  sepulchres  of  the  other 
kings  buried  there.  They  saw  chests  locked  up,  and 
were  on  the  point  of  entering,  when  a  blast  of  wind,  like 
a  storm,  issued  from  the  mouth  of  the  cave  with  such 
force,  that  it  threw  them  lifeless  on  the  ground.  They 
lay  there  until  evening,  when  they  heard  a  voice  com- 
manding them  to  go  forth  from  the  place.  They  imme- 
diately rushed  out  and  communicated  the  strange  tale  to 
the  patriarch,  who  summoned  a  learned  rabbi,  and  heard 
from  him,  that  this  was,  indeed,  the  tomb  of  the  great 
king  of  Israel.  The  patriarch  ordered  the  tomb  to  be 
walled  up,  so  as  to  hide  it  effectually." 

Besides  this  place  (the  Coenaculum,  to  which  I  will  refer 
directly)  being  the  resting-spot  of  David,  beneath  it 
slumber  the  remains  of  Solomon,  and  of  others  of  David's 
princely  line.  The  dust  of  these  monarchs  of  Israel  is 
covered  over  by  the  spacious  church  of  the  Coenaculum, 
so-called,  because  it  is  generally  supposed  that  here,  or 
near  this  place,  the  Last  Supper  was  solemnized.  The 
church  itself  is  pretty  old,  and  may  date  back  to  the  fourth 
or  fifth  century.  It  stands  on  the  southern  brow  of  Zion, 
and  occupies  a  commanding  position.  When  it  was  first 
known  as  a  church,  the  cluster  of  traditions  around  it  was 
small,  but  as  time  wore  on,  and  as  the  taste  for  the  mar- 
vellous increased,  other  interesting  events  were  enacted 
years  ago  in  a  locality,  now  enclosed  by  the  walls  of  this 


406  I'llK     OQSNACULUM. 


small  church.  It  was  first  celebrated  or  recognised  as 
sacred,  because  it  Btood  over  the  Tomb  of  David.  1  will 
now  enumerate  sonic  of  the  additions  in  Legends,  made  at 

a  later  date  to  the  holy  Bights  already  discovered.  One 
writer  says,  he  saw  on  Zion,  "a  church  which  included 
the  site  o(  our  Lord's  supper;  the  place  where  the  Holy 
Ghosl  descended  on  the  Apostles;  the  marble  columns  to 
which  our  Lord  was  hound  when  he  was  scourged;  the 
spot  where  the  Virgin  Mary  died;  and  the  place  of  the 
martyrdom  of  St.  Stephen."  Again,  "  Mere  the  Apostles 
were  congregated,  with  closed  doors,  when  Jesus  stood  in 
the  midst  of  them  and  said,  '  Peace  be  unto  you;'  and  He 
again  appeared  there  when  he  rebuked  the  doubting 
Thomas.  There  he  supped  with  his  disciples  before  the 
passover,  and  washed  their  feet;  and  the  marble  is  still 
preserved  there  on  which  He  supped.  There  the  relics 
of  St.  Stephen,  Nicodemus,  Gamaliel,  and  Abido  were 
honorably  deposited  by  St.  John,  the  Patriarch,  after  they 
were  found."  'Idie  sanctity  of  holy  places  is  thus  for  ever 
destroyed  by  this  morbid  tendency,  to  crowd  interesting 
Localities  into  too  small  a  compass.  On  visiting  the 
church,  they  will  lead  you  to  a  grated  door,  and  point  out 
to  you  the  tomb — the  genuine  tomb  is  hid  beneath  this 
one.  But  you  can  go  no  farther  than  this  grated  parti- 
tion. A  decided  exploration  would  reveal  much.  In 
regard  to  all  this,  it  may  be  stated  in  a  sincerity,  and 
on  highest  authority,  whether  or  not  the  Coenaculum 
.  - -r  the  tomb  of  the  great  David,  this  thing  is  certain, 
the  burial  place  of  the  Shepherd  King  cannot  be  many 
feel  di-tant. 


TOMBS    OF    THE     PROPHETS.  407 


Near  this  Coenaculum — I  might  as  well  refer  to  it  here, 
as  long  as  I  am  on  Zion — is  a  house  surrounded  by  a  high 
wall — it  is  the  so-called  Palace  of  the  high  priest,  Caiaphas. 
This  also  is  referred  to  by  writers  as  far  back  as  the  fourth 
century.  It  has,  of  course,  its  particular  group  of  legends. 
"  The  curious  will  here  be  shown,  under  the  altar  of  the 
church,  the  very  stone  that  once  closed  our  Lord's 
sepulchre,  (which,  we  have  already  seen,  the  Armenians 
are  accused  of  having  obtained  in  no  very  honest  way.) 
Here,  too,  is  exhibited  the  prison  in  which  Christ  was 
confined — there  is  another  in  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre ; 
the  precise  spot  where  Peter  stood  when  he  denied  his 
master ;  and  even  the  stone  on  which  the  cock  was  roost- 
ing when  he  crew !  The  building  is  now  a  convent,  and 
it  forms  the  cemetery  of  the  Armenian  patriarchs.  About 
one  hundred  yards  east  of  the  convent  is  a  cave  in  the 
hill-side,  where  Peter  is  said  to  have  hid  himself  after  he 
had  denied  his  master." 

The  Tombs  of  the  Prophets — why  so  called  I  cannot 
determine,  or  what  prophets'  tombs  they  profess  to  be,  is 
more  than  I  know — stand  on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  in  a 
south-east  direction  from  the  Tomb  of  Jehoshaphat  in 
Kidron,  to  which  I  have  referred.  In  order  to  visit  them, 
it  is  best  to  take  a  guide,  who,  for  a  trifle,  will  show  the 
tombs  and  the  entire  plan  of  the  excavation.  They  differ 
in  mode  of  construction,  from  the  other  tombs  around 
Jerusalem.  No  inscription,  nor  anything  connected  with 
these,  aid  us  in  determining  to  what  age,  or  to  whose 
memory,  were  the  monuments  erected ;  and,  until  some 
more  enterprising  and  ingenious  traveller  shall  unravel 


108  TOM  US    OF     THE     KINGS. 


their  history,  we  must  remain  contenl  with  knowing 
definitely,  what  we  already  do  concerning  the  Tombs  of 
the  Prophets — nothing, 

About  two  hundred  yards  south-east  of  an  old  ruin. 
on  the  great  northern  road  leading  from  the  Damascus 
Gate,  arc  the  Tombs  of  the  Kings,  or,  sometimes  called, 
Tombs  of  Eelena.  This  is  a  remarkable  excavation,  and 
remarkable  in  its  preservation.  Some  of  the  finest  work 
of  antiquity  is  here  hid  in  this  rock-cave  beneath  the 
ground.  The  following  is  an  account  descriptive  of  the 
Tombs,  including  an  account  of  an  extraordinary  door 
there  found.  The  description  will  be  read  with  interest 
and  with  confidence,  as  it  comes  from  a  most  reliable 
source. 

"  On  reaching  the  spot,  we  find  a  broad  trench,  hewn 
in  the  solid  rock,  which  here  forms  the  level  surface  of 
the  ground.  The  western  end  slopes  gradually  to  the 
bottom,  some  eighteen  feet  deep.  On  descending,  we 
observe,  on  the  left,  a  very  low  arched  doorway,  opening 
through  a  wall  of  rock  seven  feet  thick,  into  an  excavated 
court,  ninety-two  feet  long  by  eighty-seven  wide.  Its 
depth  is  now  only  about  eighteen  feet ;  but  the  bottom  is 
evidently  encumbered  with  an  accumulation  of  rubbish. 
The  walls  all  round  are  of  the  native  rock,  hewn  smooth. 
On  the  western  side  is  a  vestibule  or  porch,  thirty-nine 
feel  wide,  seventeen  deep,  and  fifteen  high,  also  hewn  in 
the  rock;  the  open  front  was  originally  twenty-seven  feet 
wide,  but  the  sides  are  now  much  broken.  It  was  sup- 
ported by  two  columns  in  the  middle,  and  apparently  a 
semi-column  at  each    side;    but  these  are  now  entirely 


TOMBS    OF     THE     KINGS.  409 


gone,  with  the  exception  of  a  fragment  of  one  of  the 
capitals  which  depends  from  the  architrave.  Along  the 
front,  extend  a  deep  frieze  and  cornice ;  the  former  richly 
ornamented  with  clusters  of  grapes,  triglyphs,  and  jiaterae, 
alternating  over  a  continuous  garland  of  fruit  and  foliage, 
which  was  carried  down  the  sides.  Unfortunately,  this 
beautiful  facade  is  almost  wholly  obliterated,  partly  by 
the  tooth  of  time,  but  chiefly  by  the  hand  of  man.  It 
has  suffered  much,  even  within  the  last  few  years. 

"At  the  southern  side  of  the  vestibule  is  the  entrance 
to  the  tomb.  The  door,  with  its  accessories,  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  and  ingenious  pieces  of  mechanism 
which  has  been  handed  down  to  us  from  antiquity.  It 
deserves  attention  for  its  own  sake,  and  also  as  affording 
strong  corroborative  evidence  of  the  identity  of  the 
monument.  The  opening  is  very  small,  and  considerably 
below  the  floor  of  the  vestibule ;  the  rock  around  it,  too, 
has  been  broken  and  destroyed,  but  enough  remains  to 
show  its  plan.  Originally,  the  door  could  only  be 
approached  by  a  straight  subterranean  corridor,  ten  feet 
long,  the  entrance  to  which  Mas  by  a  trap-door,  closely 
covered  with  a  flag.  The  landing-place  below  this  trap- 
door was  on  the  very  brink  of  a  well  or  pit,  which  could 
only  be  avoided  by  great  caution.  Passing  this,  and 
crawling  along  the  low  corridor,  the  door  was  found  to 
be  covered  with  a  heavy  circular  slab  of  stone,  running 
in  a  groove  inclining  upwards  to  the  left,  and  could  thus 
only  be  moved  from  its  place  by  means  of  a  lever  pressing 
from  right  to  left.  This  would  have  been  a  simple  process, 
had  the  whole  slab  and  groove  been  exposed ;  but  they 


I  10  POMBS    OF    Til  E     K  I  N'GS. 

were  bo  carefully  concealed  bj  1 1 u*  sides  of  the  corridor, 

that    thev  seemed    a    piece   of  the    solid    rock;   and    then1 

was.  besides,  on  the  left,  in  a  little  passage,  another  slab, 
sliding  in  another  groove  at  right  angles  to  the  former, 
which,  being  shot  in,  served  as  a  bolt,  and  made  the  door 
immovable.  These  complicated  arrangements,  combined 
with  the  Btrength  of  the  materials,  rendered  the  entrance 
impracticable,  except  to  the  initiated.  And  there  was, 
in  addition,  an  inner  door,  invented  to  serve  as  a  trap  to 
the  unwary  robber.  It  was  a  massive  slab  of  stone, 
fitting  exactly  into  the  deeply  recessed  opening,  and  so 
hung  upon  pivots,  above  and  below,  that  it  yielded  to 
pressure  from  without,  but  immediately  fell  back  into  its 
place,  on  the  pressure  being  removed.  Should  any  one 
be  so  unfortunate  as  to  enter,  and  leave  the  door  for  an 
instant,  his  fate  was  sealed ;  for  it  fitted  so  closely  into 
the  deep  recess,  that  he  had  no  possible  means  of  pulling 
it  open  again.  The  roof  of  the  corridor  is  now  broken 
away,  and  the  corridor  itself,  as  well  as  the  pit  at  its 
original  entrance,  nearly  filled  up  with  rubbish ;  but  a 
careful  examination,  and  a  little  excavation,  lay  bare  the 
whole  puzzle." 

.Much  dispute  has  arisen  concerning  these  tombs — by 
whom  erected,  what  their  age,  and  whose  ashes  they  once 
held  or  now  hold.  Mr.  Ferguson,  judging  solely  from 
their  architecture — and  he  is  a  good  judge  in  such  mat- 

—  places  them  at  a  date  later  than  Herod's;  at  what 
we  might  Bay,  comparatively  speaking,  a  quite  modern 
date.  ML  de  Saulcy,  the  enthusiastic  French  explorer, 
Bays  most  confidently  that  here  was  buried  King  David; 


TOMBS    OF     THE     KINGS.  411 


and  moreover  he  affirms  that  he  identifies  each  of  the  sarco- 
phagi, and  finishes  by  saying  that  he  himself  took  away 
the  lid  of  the  rock  coffin  which  was  assigned  to  David,  or 
rather  to  which  the  Shepherd  King  was  co??signed.  Mr. 
Ferguson  says  of  this,  quite  pertly  and  aptly,  that  the 
Sarcophagus  of  David  of  M.  de  Saulcy  uis  certainly  more 
modern  than  the  time  of  Constantine."  They  are  thought 
by  Dr.  Schultz  to  be  the  royal  tombs  to  which  reference 
has  been  made  in  speaking  of  the  ancient  wall  of  Bezetha. 
Dr.  Robinson,  whose  opinions  generally  are  entitled  to  the 
fullest  credence,  believed,  "  taking  history  and  ancient 
topographical  notices  as  his  guides,"  that  this  excavation 
is,  what  it  was  no  doubt  anciently  called,  the  Tomb  of 
Helena  and  of  her  family.  Mr.  Williams  thinks  their 
magnificence  and  splendid  workmanship  well  accord  with 
Herod's  notions  of  grandeur,  and  warrant  him  in  styling 
them  the  "  Monuments  of  Herod."  Dr.  Porter,  from 
whom  I  have  often  and  largely  quoted,  agrees,  as  he 
generally  does  in  matters  of  dispute,  with  Dr.  Robinson. 
Upon  reading  the  testimony  of  each  in  favor  of  his  parti- 
cular theory — and  I  have  studied  hard  an  epitomized 
abstract  from  their  different  works — I  believe  wholly  with 
Dr.  Robinson  and  Dr.  Porter.  Without  going  into  any 
detail,  as  that  were  impossible  just  now,  I  will  simply 
state  that  mention  was  made  of  this  tomb  and  called  that 
of  Helena  by  Josephus  three  times,  several  times  by 
Eusebius,  Jerome,  and  particularly  in  the  2d  century  by 
Pausanias,  the  Greek.  He  speaks  of  a  tomb  of  Helena, 
in  which  he  gives  an  exaggerated  account  of  the  remark- 
able door  to  which  reference  has  been  made  above.     He 


I  L2  Tom  BS    OF    Til  E    J  l  DG  ES. 

Bays  of  this,  "thai  ii  was  of  the  same  rock,  and  was  so 
contrived  that  when  the  returning  year  brought  round  a 
particular  day  and   hour,  it  then  opened   by  means  oi 

mechanism  alone,  and  after  a  short  time  closed  again  ;  had 
one  tried    to  open    it  at    another  time,  he    must   have  first 

broken  it  with  violence."  The  account  is,  of  course,  ex- 
,  rated  and  tinged  just  slightly  with  the  marvellous, 
yet  it  smaeks  enough  oi'  truthfulness  to  warrant  us  in 
believing  the  door  to  which  Pausanias  referred  to  he 
identical  with  the  door  as  Been  now  in  the  Tombs  of  the 
Kings,  or  the  Tomb  of  Helena,  as  I  think  more  properly 
called. 

The  Tombs  of  the  Judges,  which  are  situated  a  little 
further  up  the  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  deserve  a  passing 
notice.  In  structure  and  arrangement  they  are  similar  to 
those  already  mentioned,  and  require  no  particular  descrip- 
tion. Why  they  were  called  Tombs  of  the  Judges,  we  are 
not  yet  informed.  Some  say  because  the  old  Hebrew 
Judges  were  here  interred;  this,  to  say  the  least,  is  im- 
probable. Porter  thinks  "  more  probably"  (and  more  pro- 
perly too)  "  that  the  name  had  reference  to  the  Judges 
of  the  Sanhedrim  ;  and  was  applied  in  consequence  of  the 
fancied  correspondence  of  the  number  of  niches  with  the 
number  of  members  composing  that  tribunal." 

There  are  several  other  ancient  sites  in  and  around 
Jerusalem,  hut  those  to  which  I  have  referred  are  situated 
without  the  wall ;  the  Tomb  of  Herod,  the  Fullers  Field, 
th<-  Gampqf  Tihi.s,  and  the  Grotto  of  Jeremiah.  Herod's 
Toinh.  or  monument,  is  mentioned  two  or  three  times  by 
Josephus.     From  what  that  Jewish  writer  says  concern- 


GROTTO    OF    JEREMIAH.  413 


ing  it,  Dr.  Schultz  concludes  that  some  extensive  remains 
of  large  stones  and  of  general  debris  south  of  the  pre- 
sent Birket  el-Mamilla,  "  covering  a  few  sepulchral  caves 
hewn  in  rock/'  are  all  that  there  is  to-day  of  Herod's 
monument. 

Near  this  same  pool  was  the  "  Fuller's  Field."  The 
fullers  were  "  cleansers  of  woollen  garments."  Here  per- 
haps they  washed  their  garments,  as  this  was  convenient 
to  water ;  and  here  perhaps,  being  a  "  field,"  and  of  course 
a  large  open  space,  they  dried  them  in  the  sun.  The 
Fuller's  Field  is  mentioned  twice  in  the  Scriptures,  and 
that  in  the  Old  Testament — once  in  Isaiah,  and  once  in 
2  Kings. 

Concerning  the  Camp  of  Titus  there  has  been  some  dis- 
pute. It  is  safer  to  believe  it  (and  more  in  accordance 
with  truth),  to  be  near  the  knoll  or  swell  of  ground  west 
of  the  Damascus  Gate. 

The  Grotto  of  Jeremiah  is  nearly  opposite  the  Camp 
of  Titus ;  that  is,  it  is  north-east  of  the  Damascus  Gate. 
There  are  two  large  vaults  included  in  the  cave,  which  we 
reach  by  a  couple  of  pair  of  stairs.  Whether  or  not,  in 
reality,  the  Grotto  derives  its  name  from  Jeremiah  the 
prophet,  I  have  no  means  of  knowing.  Of  everything 
else,  so  of  this,  a  very  great  doubt  can  be  expressed  as 
regards  truth  in  the  premises. 

Of  the  pools  and  fountains  I  have  spoken  sufficiently 
in  my  Journal,  so  I  will  pass  them  by ;  but  indeed  I 
would  hardly  be  excusable,  and  many  would  think  that  I 
had  never  been  to  Jerusalem  indeed,  if  I  forbore  to  men- 
tion a  certain  street   or  way — street   is  too  dignified   a 


Ill  \  I  \     DOLOROSA. 


title — on  which  are  clustered  holy  places,  1  had  said 
without  number,  hut  1  will  Bay  without  foundation  for 
belief  1  refer  to  the  famous  Via  Dolorosa — the  mournful 
way.  Withoul  Bpeaking  irreverently,  and  far  indeed  from 
meaning  anything  of  the  Bort,  I  would  say  it  is  indeed  a 
mournful  way.  if  throughout  its  course  we  present  the 
moving  Bpectacle  of  gulping  tools,  listening  to  the  non- 
sense which  is  here  [toured  into  our  ears.  This  one  fact, 
however,  is  sullicient  to  cause  us  to  view  the  solemn  way 
with  melancholy  and  subdued  feelings  at  heart;  far  more 
than  probable  it  was  along  this  sad  street  that  Jesus 
Christ  walked  to  the  hill  on  which  lie  was  crucified. 

••  Here,  on  the  left,  are  two  old  arches  in  the  wall,  now 
built  up.  where  the  Scala- Santa,  or  staircase  leading  to 
the  Judgment  Hall,  stood  until  removed  by  Constantine 
to  the  basilica  of  St.  John  Lateran.  On  the  opposite  side 
of  the  street  is  the  Church  of  the  Flagellation,  so  called 
from  the  tradition  that  on  its  site  Christ  was  scourged. 
Others  call  it  the  -Church  of  the  Crowning  with  Thorns,' 
and  both  names  are  probably  equally  applicable.  A  few- 
paces  westward  t lie  street  is  spanned  by  the  Ecce  Homo 
Arch,  which  a  lively  imagination  might  date  back  to  the 
B  Miian  age.  Here  Pilate  is  said  to  have  brought  forth 
our  Lord  and  presented  him  to  the  people,  saying,  'Be- 
hold the  man!'  We  now  descend  an  easy  slope  and  turn 
sharply  to  the  left,  into  the  street  corning  from  the 
Damascus  Gate;  passing  on  our  way  the  spot  where 
the  Saviour,  fainting  under  the  cross,  leaned  against  the 
wall  of  a  house,  and  left  on  it  the  impression  of  his 
shoulder;   and  then   the  spot  where,  meeting  the  Virgin, 


VIA  DOLOROSA.  41-5 


he  said,  Salve  Mater!  In  the  bottom  of  the  valley  is 
pointed  out  the  House  of  Dives,  and  a  stone  in  front  of  it 
on  which  Lazarus  sat.  Turning  another  sharp  corner  to 
the  right,  and  ascending  the  hill,  we  have,  on  the  left, 
the  place  of  Christ's  second  fall  under  the  cross ;  and  then 
the  House  of  St.  Veronica,  from  which  that  illustrious 
woman  came  forth  and  presented  the  Saviour  with  a 
handkerchief  to  wipe  his  bleeding  brows.  The  ascent 
from  hence  to  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre  is  consider- 
able, and  the  street  has  a  strange  picturesque  aspect, 
The  pavement  is  rugged,  the  walls  on  each  side  prison- 
like, pierced  here  and  there  with  low  door  and  grated 
window  ;  while  a  succession  of  archways  shroud  portions 
of  it  in  gloom,  even  when  the  intervals  are  lighted  up  by 
the  bright  sun  of  noonday.  A  more  appropriate  name 
could  scarcely  be  invented,  for  this  section  at  least,  than 
the  Via  Dolorosa.  Here,  too,  are  other  stations,  including 
the  spot  marked  by  the  fragment  of  a  column,  where  the 
soldiers  compelled  Simon  to  carry  the  cross ;  and  the 
place  where  Christ  said  to  the  women  who  followed  him 
weeping,  '  Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  weep  not  for  me.' 
Some  will  call  these  stations  absurdities,  others  may  give 
them  even  a  worse  name ;  but  such  as  desire  to  see  the 
simple  faith  with  which  they  are  believed  and  reverenced 
by  Latin  pilgrims — men  of  education  and  enlightenment 
— need  only  consult  the  work  of  the  Abbe  Geramb. 

"  Just  at  the  western  termination  of  the  Via  Dolorosa, 
tradition  places  the  Porta  Judiciaria,  the  site  of  which  is 
supposed  to  be  marked  by  a  single  upright  shaft  at  the 
angle  of  the  street  and  the  bazaar.     I  know  not  on  what 


Ih'>  THK    CONVENTS. 


ground,  historical  or  architectural,  this  column  can  be 
connected  with  a  gate  at  all :  the  tradition,  however,  has 
probably  equal  claims  to  credit  with  the  others  along  the 
Btreet" 

A  notice  i\['  Jerusalem,  such  as  I  have  attempted  to 
give  in  these  few  pages,  would  not  he  complete,  if  I 
omitted  to  refer,  briefly  though  it  may  be,  to  the  con- 
vents belonging  to  the  different  sects  of  the  city.  This 
I  must  necessarily  do  in  a  manner  very  brief — in  fact,  I 
can  scarcely  do  more  than  refer  to  those  which  are  the 
chief  in  Jerusalem. 

There  are  a  good  many  buildings,  rather,  I  should  say, 
societies  of  this  nature,  but  there  are  only  three  edifices 
which  deserve  especial  notice  :  the  Latin,  the  Greek,  and 
the  Armenian.  The  latter  is  the  largest,  and  by  far  the 
most  elegant  in  the  city.  I  have  referred  to  it  in  the 
pages  of  my  Journal,  and,  consequently,  have  but  little 
to  say  about  it  in  this  place.  The  convent  is  situated 
near  the  south-western  brow  of  Zion,  not  far  from  the 
barracks.  To  it  is  attached  the  largest  (among  other 
things]  garden  in  Jerusalem.  The  convent  is  erected  on 
the  traditional  site  of  the  martyrdom  of  St.  James — 
rather,  the  church  belonging  to  the  convent  is  built  on 
the  said  site.  The  convent  was  founded  as  early  as  the 
eleventh  century.  There  is  a  theological  seminary  and 
a  printing  press  connected  with  the  building. 

The  Greek  Convent  stands  west  of  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Sepulchre,  and  near  the  street  of  the  Christians.  It 
is  an  uninviting,  dull-looking  building,  and  offends  rather 
than   attacts   the  eye.      The  Greek   Patriarch,  he  who 


THE     CONVENTS.  417 


practises  the  deceit  of  the  holy  fire  in  the  chapel  of  the 
sepulchre,  has  this  gloomy-looking  pile  for  his  residence. 
He  is  not,  and  should  not,  be  envied.  This  convent  can 
boast  the  best  selected  library  in  Jerusalem.  Among  its 
collections  are  some  very  ancient  manuscripts ;  one  among 
which  is  especially  precious.  It  is  a  "  copy  of  the  Book 
of  Job,  in  folio,  written  in  large  letters,  surrounded  with 
scholia  in  a  smaller  hand,  and  almost  every  page  contains 
one  or  more  miniatures  of  Job  and  his  friends ;  its  date  is 
about  the  twelfth  century." 

The  Latin  Convent  of  the  Saviour,  the  San  Salvador 
of  the  Italians,  and  St.  Sauveur  of  the  French,  stands 
near  the  north-western  angle  of  the  city.  It,  like  the 
Armenian  Convent,  was  founded  and  occupied  originally 
by  the  Georgians,  once  the  most  powerful  religious  sect 
in  Syria.  Connected  {not  materially)  with  this  convent 
is  the  Casa  Nuova,  near  the  Jaffa  Gate,  where  lodgment 
and  food  can  be  obtained  by  those  of  all  creeds  and 
nations ;  but,  in  return,  you  are  expected  to  pay  prices 
rating  higher  than  those  of  the  best  hotels. 

Besides  the  three  convents  just  noticed,  there  are  two 
more,  to  which  I  will  simply  refer :  the  Convent  of  St. 
Mark  and  the  Convent  of  the  Cross.  The  first  is  a 
Syrian  convent,  situated  in  an  obscure  part  of  the  town ; 
it  has  very  few  members,  and  is  interesting  to  Christians 
simply  as  being  the  house  of  the  Evangelist  St.  Mark. 

The  Convent  of  the  Cross  formerly  belonged  to  the 
Georgians,  and  was  founded  at  a  very  early  date.  It  has 
recently  been  fitted  up  by  the  Greeks,  who  purchased  it ; 
and  it  now  boasts  a  college,  or  has  itself  been  converted 

27 


!  I  s  THE    CONVENTS. 


into  a  college.  It  gets  its  name  from  the  fact  that  the 
tree  from  which  the  cross  was  obtained  grew  on  this  spot. 
It  stands  in  a  desolate-looking,  rocky  valley,  about  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile  wesl  of  the  city. 

And  now  I  have  finished  this  hasty,  though  somewhat 
extended  examination  ofwhal  is  to  be  seen  by  the  tourist 
of  ancient  and  modern  times,  worthy  of  interest  in  and 
about  the  City  of  the  Foundation  of  Peace.  That  I  have 
executed  it  imperfectly,  1  know.  1  could  scarcely  have 
hoped,  or  expected  otherwise,  writing,  as  I  have  done, 
surrounded  by  no  means  of  consulting  authorities,  and 
depending  solely  on  the  memory  of  what  I  have  read, 
and  on  the  recollections  of  my  visit  to  the  places  them- 
selves. I  hope  sincerely,  however,  that  the  reader  or 
traveller  has  been  somewhat  instructed  and  pleased  with 
my  labor.     If  such  is  the  case,  then  "so  well  and  so 

_ 1' — au  contraire — why.  simply,  I  cannot  help  it,  and 

have  only  to  say,  I  crave  the  indulgence  of  the  public, 
and  advance,  as  others  often  do,  the  plea,  human  fallibility 
— human  frailty. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


JOURNAL   CONTINUED. 


Bamleh,  Plain  of  Sharon. 
Tuesday,  March  15th,  1859. 
^JjyO-DAY  was  the  last  on  which  I  beheld  the  old, 
I  dull  walls  of  the  Holy  City.  Long,  indeed,  I 
lingered  behind  to  catch  the  last  glimpse  of  the 
huge  shadows  of  the  Tower  of  Hippicus,  as  the 
rays  of  the  early  risen  sun  fell  upon  it  and  gilded  it  from 
top  to  bottom  ;  and  now  Jerusalem,  the  spot  where  of  late 
I  have  spent  such  sweet  and  hallowed  moments, — where 
I  have,  as  it  were,  communed  with  kings  of  yore,  and 
looked  upon  the  mighty  working  of  man's  hand  in  an 
antichristian  age, — is  many  miles  behind  me,  and  the  link 
of  magic  association  is  dispelled  forever.  Yet  so  it  must 
be,  and  so  let  it  be.  I  can  but  heave  a  sigh,  however,  as  I 
think  when  I  awake  in  the  morning,  my  eyes  will  no 
longer  rest  on  the  green  slopes  of  Mt.  Olivet. 

Quite  early  this  morning  we  arose,  in  spite  of  having 
retired  at  a  late  hour  last  night.  It  was  necessary,  and 
we  bowed,  or  rather — got  rq>  and  dressed,  at  the  bidding  of 
necessity.  We  descended  gloomily  into  the  narrow  court 
of  the  Prussian  Hospice ;   our  baggage  was  all  ready,  our 

(419) 


120  i  i   \  v  1:    .1  E  R  i rSALEM. 


weapons  in  good  order,  and  we  simply  awaited  a  1  uist \ 
breakfasl  before  Baying  good-bye  to  all,  and  commencing 
our  homeward  march  toward  the  sunset,  Silently  and 
slowly  we  ate  the  meal  spread  before  us;  it  was  our  last 
with  good  Mr.  Theil.  Long  shall  1  remember  him  and 
his  many  kindnesses  to  our  party.     The  meal  was  finished, 

we    mounted   our   steeds,  said    good-bye    hastily,  and    in    a 

few  moments  had  reached  the  Jaffa  Gate.  Here  we  were 
compelled    to    remain  a  few  minutes  for  Mr.  S — tt,  who 

had  -one  back  after  a  trifling  article.  Our  patience  was 
n«»t  exhausted,  however,  for  soon  our  good  friend  ap- 
peared. Shaking  Mr.  Theil  finally  by  the  hand — he  had 
accompanied  us  thither — we  started  once  more,  and  soon 
on  turning  the  high  cliffs  to  the  west,  the  Holy  City  sank 
'  U  rnally,  I  imagine,  on  my  eyes.  And  then  we  were 
fairly  embarked  on  our  long,  dull,  tedious  ride.  Ah!  it 
was  truly  U odious  to  lis.  Up  and  down,  down  and  up,  it 
-•lined  even  worse  than  when  we  came.  And  the  day 
was  so  warm.  too.  This,  together  with  the  melancholy 
musings  occasioned  by  our  departure  from  El-Khuds, 
threw  me  into  a  real  fit  of  blues,  from  which  I  have  not, 
a-  yet,  wholly  recovered. 

About   ten   miles  from  Jerusalem  we  came  up  with  Dr. 

Barclay.  Miss ,  of  Virginia,  far  away,  and  Miss  Dick- 

Bon,  a  resident  English  lady  (missionary),  in  Jerusalem. 
They  were  resting  at  Kirjath-jearim,  to  which  I  have 
before  referred.      We  partook  of  a  snack  with  them,  and 

then  were  prepared  to  march.     Miss ,  of  Virginia,  is 

under  Mr.  S — tt's  charge  hack  to  the  United  States.  Miss 
Dickson   is   on   her  way  to  Jaffa,  to  meet  some  English 


PARTING    WITH     MONTAG.  421 


friends,  whom  she  expects  by  the  last  steamer  just  in. 
And  here  at  Kirjath-jearim  I  had  my  feelings  as  sorely 
tried  as  ever  before  in  my  life.     It  was  here  we  parted 
with  the  noble  "  old  Hussar,"  the  companion  of  our  ear- 
lier undeveloped  hours  and  days  of  this  expedition,  which 
is  now  piecemeal  drawing  to  a  close — with  good  John 
Montag !     It  was  a  sore  moment  to  me  and  to  all  our 
party,  especially  S. ;   and  it  was  a  trying  ordeal  to  good 
John's  manhood.     He  could  not  keep  back  the  fountains 
which  gushed  at  nature's  bidding;  he  wept  like  a  child,  as 
one  by  one  he  embraced  our  party.     I  was  the  last.     He 
threw  his  arms   around   my  neck,  gave   me  one   hearty 
embrace,  and  with  his  voice   half  drowned   in   heartfelt 
emotion,  he   murmured    something,  all  of  which  that  I 
could  understand  was,  "  Gott  in  Himmel !"     And  so  we 
parted.     Ever  green,  Meinherr,  shall  thy  memory  be  on 
the  fig  tree  of  my  remembrance ;   ever  fresh  shall  it  be  in 
the  halls  of  recollection.     The  good  old  fellow  lingers  in 
Jerusalem  to  spend  the  week  of  Easter.     God  bless  him 
forever !     How  well  I  remember  his  introduction  to  me 
in  the  Museum,  at  Naples !     But  he  is  gone,  and  I  shall 
never  see  him   again   this    side    of  the    Bar  of   Eternal 
Judgment. 

Once  again  we  started  off,  my  sadness  increased  much 
by  the  departure  of  good  Meinherr.  I  looked  back  more 
than  once,  until  his  form,  with  Dr.  Barclay's,  had  faded 
from  view.  After  a  most  fatiguing  ride,  and  after  di- 
vers adventures,  some  laughable,  some  serious,  we  again 
reached  this  little  place  late  in  the  night.  We  had  much 
difficulty  in  getting  in  the  convent,  as  we  had  ladies  in 


122  I.KA  V  I       R  A  M  l.l'.ll. 

the  party.  Ladies  are  often  tin-  cause  of — bul  we  will 
not  finish  thai  uaughtj  Bentenoe,  for  some  fair  lady  may 
at  one  day  see  these  hastily  scribbled  pages,  and  then! 
Thanks  to  Esslinger,  however,  his  fluent  Italian  and  his 
valuable  tongue,  we  have  passed  the  Large  gates,  and  are 
all  snugly  quartered  once  more  in  the  Latin  Convent  in 
Ramleh.  Esslinger  is  furiously  mad  with  the  new  Mouk- 
ary  (we  could  not  gel  Hassan),  and  swears  d — 1  a  bil  of 
bakhshish  !  How  many  things  have  transpired  since  last 
1  -mod  within  the  lour  narrow  walls  of  this  chamber,  yet 
how  well  I  remember  the  day  we  reached  here,  on  our  way 
to  Jerusalem,  and  how  well  do  I  remember  S.'s  particular 
adventure! — but  on  that,  let  the  silence  of  ages  sleep. 

Steamer  Hydaspe,  Mediterranean  Sea. 
\Y«  dnesday,  March  16th,  1859. 
At  an  early  this  morning  we  arose.  Having  partaken 
of  a  scanty  breakfast,  even  more  scanty  than  when  we 
were  going  to  Jerusalem,  and  withal  being  urged  rather 
openly  by  the  good  padres  to  vacate  the  premises — to 
vamose  tfu  RANCHE,  most  literally  speaking,  we  left  the 
convent  gate  precisely  at  seven  o'clock,  thoroughly  dis- 
gusted with  convent,  edibles,  and  Christian  hospitalities. 
As  a  hostelry,  where  "good  provender"  can  be  obtained 
for  the  inner  man,  what  a  contrast  this  convent  presented 
to  one  of  our  southern  darkey  cabins  in  America.  But 
that  ifi  a  sore  subject.  The  thoughts  of  ash-cakes  and 
fried  meat  come  rushing  over  my  brain  too  overwhelm- 
ing!', as  I  allow  my  mind  to  wander  so  far,  and  at  the  recol- 
lections awakened,  my  mouth  waters  too  much  for  com- 


AT    JAFFA.  423 

fort,     strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  ladies  arose  early,  and 
were  ready  to  depart  when  we  made  our  appearance. 

We  had  a  most  delightful  ride  to  Jaffa,  and  much  fun 
along  the  road,  as  barren  as  it  was.  Mr.  S — tt  and  my- 
self gathered  many  small  and  beautiful  flowers  blooming 
on  the  outspread  carpet  of  the  Plain  of  Sharon.  How 
natural  and  home-like  things  looked  in  Jaffa  as  we  wound 
along  the  dusty  avenues  lined  with  giant  cactus  plants, 
and  entered  the  city.  We  were  met  some  distance  from 
the  gate  by  Blattner's  Jew  boys.  We  went  to  the  sea- 
side to  obtain  tickets  for  the  steamer,  and  there — oh  !  glo- 
rious sight ! — there  lay  the  noble  craft  swaying  quietly  to 
and  fro  on  the  light  swell.  We  were  now  confident  of 
getting  on  board ;  so,  having  purchased  tickets  for  Beirut, 
we  returned  to  Blattner's  and  partook  of  a  fine  breakfast. 
Having  taken  a  farewell  stroll  around  Jaffa,  seen  again 
the  reputed  site  of  the  House  of  the  Tanner  Simon,  &c, 
we  left  the  hotel,  never  to  see  its  fat  proprietor  again,  I 
imagine,  and  repaired  to  the  place  of  embarkation.  Here 
we  had  more  trouble  about  our  baggage  and  the  con- 
founded custom-house  duties,  than  we  did  in  coming.  No 
doubt  the  rascals  remembered  us,  and  remembered,  too, 
the  large  bakhshish  they  obtained  from  us !  This  time, 
however,  we  did  not  escape ;  they  would  have  it ;  they 
had  us  in  their  power,  unless  we  resorted  to  violence,  and 
even  then  we  were  in  their  power.  So  we  paid  down  the 
bakhshish,  and  a  heavy  one,  for  the  steamer  was  waiting 
for  us,  which  the  captain  would  not  do  long,  for  the  tide 
was  setting  out,  and  that  waits  for  nobody.  We  finally 
reached  the  steamer,  and  as  my  foot  fell  on  the  deck  of 


Ill  [  ON    BOARD, 

the  Hydaspe,  I  enjoyed  the  first  really  unrestrained  and 
free  inspiration   I    breathed  since  I  left  the  side  of  the 

Meandiv  in  this  same  roadstead.  I  fell  like  a  new  man; 
and  the  captain  and  officers  of  the  ship,  despite  their 
palaver  and  gold  lace,  at  least  looked  like  specimens  and 
representatives  of  civilization.  And  now  we  are  once 
again  on  the  deep,  Jaffa  lies  many  miles  astern,  the  sea  is 
smooth,  the  wind  is  fair,  the  Hydaspe  is  fleet,  and  the 
clear  twinkling  stars  shining  yonder  over  the  dusky 
height  of  Mount  Carmel  on  the  coast,  reveal  to  us  the 
rippling  foam  scudding  by  us,  and  tell  us  that  we  are 
swiftly  ploughing  the  main  toward  our  haven. 


Ship  Borystliene — At  Sea. 
Thursday  March  17th,  1859. 


Sea.  ) 
159.  j 

We  had  a  most  delightful  run  throughout  last  night, 
until  we  reached,  about  daybreak,  the  beautiful  city  of 
Beirut.  We  had  a  fine  view  of  the  dark  outline  of  Mount 
Carmel,  with  which  is  connected  so  much  interest.  As 
the  ship  sailed  smoothly  on,  and  while  my  eyes  devoured 
the  dark  object  away  to  the  leeward,  which  I  knew  to  be 
Mount  Carmel,  how  pleasantly  did  I  remember  all  I  ever 
had  heard  of  Carmel,  and  ruminated  with  a  joyous  thrill 
over  the  chequered  fortunes  of  the  noble  convent  which  now 
graces  the  summit  of  the  mountain.  The  cliff  was  made 
sacred  from  the  fact  that  on  it  Elijah  offered  up  his  sacri- 
fice. The  mighty  and  magnificent  convent  which  now 
rears  its  massive  pile  amid  the  solemn  grandeur  of  this 
rocky  waste  is  called,  after  the  prophet,  Mar  Elias.  The 
history  of  the  convent  may  be  briefly  summed  up  thus  :— 


MAR    ELIAS.  425 


There  has  stood  in  this  spot  a  convent  for  many,  many 
years,  but  it  was  destroyed  by  the  soldiers  under  Titus. 
The  general  took  the  convent  after  a  lengthy  siege. 
After  the  Crusades  it  was  taken  and  destroyed  by  the 
Saracens.  Still  later,  Napoleon,  during  the  siege  of  Akka, 
destroyed  it ;  or  rather  he  used  (or  abused)  it  as  an  hos- 
pital; and  after  he  left  it,  the  Turks  plundered  it.  Still 
later,  in  1821,  the  entire  building  was  blown  up  by  the 
orders  of  Abdallah,  Pacha  of  Akka.  From  these  succes- 
sive ruins  and  disasters  the  present  majestic  convent 
arose,  and  by  the  ever-to-be-remembered  effort  of  one 
•man — a  poor  lay  member,  by  name  Jean  Baptiste.  His 
name  will  ever  be  connected  with  the  huge  pile  which  his 
indefatigable  industry  erected ;  and  with  the  mention  of 
the  convent  his  name  shall  ever  be  honored.  He  begged 
through  Europe,  Asia,  and  Africa  for  fourteen  long  years, 
and  finally  obtained  his  aims. 

The  traveller  will  be  more  than  pleased  with  a  visit  to 
this  convent,  as  there  are  many  points  of  attraction, 
besides  good  beds,  good  cuisine,  and  a  whole-souled,  hearty 
welcome.  It  is  stated  by  some  that  the  convent  was  com- 
pleted in  1826 ;  more  properly  I  think  it  should  be  1835. 

I  lingered  long  on  deck,  watching  the  far-off  spot  fading 
away  in  the  dimness  of  distance  and  the  gloom  of  night, 
and  when  it  was  finally  shut  from  my  view  I  could  but 
heave  a  sigh  of  regret. 

My  slumbers  through  the  night  were  rather  restive, 
owing  to  a  bad  finger.  When  I  awoke  this  morning.  I 
found  that  the  good  Hydaspe  lay  motionless  upon  the 
water,  and  the  endless  clank  of  machinery  thundered  no 


126  BEIRUT. 

more.  On  casting  a  glance  through  my  small  circular 
window .  there  la}  Beirut,  bathed  in  floods  of  early  morn- 
ing sunshine.  I  was  booh  on  deck,  and  as  the  sky 
fortunately  was  cloudless,  1  obtained  a  fine  view  of  the 
peerless    Lebanon.      Mv    party    were   already   on   deck, 

ing,  in  rapt  admiration  and  hoi}  awe,  at  the  uprising 
dill's  and  Bnow-covered  crags  which  glared  from  the 
Liban,  down  upon  us.  The  mountain  appeared  about 
hall"  a  mile  distant.  It  was  in  reality  twenty  times  that 
distance.  What  a  multitude  of  associations  rushed  over 
ns  as  we  gazed  at  Lebanon — and  we  longed  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  far-famed  "  cedars  ;"  but  they  were  far  over 
on  the  other  side,  and  our  gaze  could  not  reach  them. 

Beirut  is  the  ancient  Berytus,  and  is  what  might  be 
justly  termed,  on  account  of  all  qualities  that  make  a 
city,  the  Capital  of  Syria.  It  has  sometimes  been  styled, 
on  account  of  its  really  excellent  cafes,  promenades,  and 
general  gaiety,  the  Syrian  Paris.  1  am  told,  though  I  had 
not  the  opportunity  to  judge  from  experience,  that  there 
arc  pleasure-grounds  and  drives  around  Beirut,  which 
rival,  in  a  measure,  as  far  as  pleasure  is  concerned,  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne,  or  Hyde  Park.  This  state  of  progress 
and  activity  is  due  to  foreign  iniluence,  particularly  English 
and  American.  Beirut  has  grown  to  its  present  state  in 
about  thirty  years.  It  now  numbers  nearly  fifty  thousand 
inhabitants,  and  is  constantly  increasing.  It  boasts  seve- 
ral line  public  buildings,  a  library,  printing-office,  steam- 
factories,  &c.  Beirut  is  the  grand  trysting-ground  often 
for  the  rival  sects,  the  Maronites  and  Druzes,  who  occupy 
the   Lebanon  range  overhanging  the  city,  we  might  say. 


BALLS     IN     BEIRUT.  427 


During  the  winter  season,  many  splendid  balls  are  given 
by  the  foreign  population,  at  which  all  the  notable  Turks, 
— the  pacha,  his  officers,  &c,  are  invited.  It  does  not 
appear,  however,  from  the  following  account,  which  I 
by  chance  found  in  a  very  interesting  book  of  travels, 
on  the  coast,  that  the  gay  proceedings,  particularly  the 
dancing  of  the  foreign  ladies,  please  the  grave  Turk,  or 
agree  with  his  notions  of  propriety.  I  wonder  what  they 
would  say,  could  the}^  visit  our  Saratoga,  our  Virginia 
Springs,  or  attend  a  hop  at  Old  Point  or  Newport.  "  At 
the  end  of  a  room,  perched  on  a  divan  of  state,  is  the 
pacha  and  some  of  the  more  distinguished  Turks.  They 
smoke  and  talk  and  applaud,  alternately — looking  upon 
the  whole  affair  as  a  boy  would  at  a  puppet-show,  think- 
ing that  the  ladies  and  their  partners  are  capering  about 
for  their  especial  benefit  and  amusement.  If  there  is 
anything  that  annoys  them,  it  is  the  character  of  the 
music,  which  is  not  half  sedate  enough,  nor  sufficiently 
lugubrious  or  out  of  tune,  to  suit  their  taste.  When  the 
waltz  or  quadrille,  or  whatever  it  may  be,  is  over,  and 
the  partners  promenade  in  couples  around  the  room,  these 
gray-bearded  children  criticise  the  ladies,  and  are  heard 
to  exclaim  Mushalla!  (God  be  praised!),  if  any  particular 
belle  appear  to  be  rather  stout,  which  is  the  standard  of 
beauty  in  Turkey.  After  smoking  an  incredible  number 
of  pipes,  and  seeing  a  great  many  dances,  and  consuming 
whole  gallons  of  very  strong  punch,  the  old  fellows  toddle 
home  in  a  merry  mood,  thanking  their  stars  that  it  was 
not  in  their  own  hareem,  that  they  had  just  witnessed 


128  SA  [L     FOB     A  l.r.  \  A  N  DB  1  A 


dancing,  as  in   their  hearts  the}  look   upon  the  affair  as 
yit\  indecorous  as  regards  ladies. 

There  is  a  fine  American  missionary  station  in  Beirut. 
It  may  be  interesting  to  state  1  think,  though  I  am  not 
certain,  that  it  is  presided  over  by  Dr.  Van  Dyck,  the 
celebrated  Oriental  scholar.  We  made  our  arrangements 
for  instant  departure,  even  as  we  arrived.  We  could 
only  spare  one  day  at  Beirut,  necessity  calling  us  away. 
So  just  as  soon  as  we  could  conveniently  do  so,  we 
embarked  on  the  fine  French  steamer  Borysthene,  for 
Alexandria,  and  felt  the  satisfaction  at  lust  of  knowing 
that  we  were  homeward  bound. 

Several  Americans  are  aboard.  The  ship  is  heavily 
laden  with  a  great  number  of  Russian  and  Greek  pil- 
grims, who  are  lx.und  to  Jaffa,  thence  to  Jerusalem,  to 
celebrate  the  week  of*  Easter.  Our  rate  of  speed  is  slow, 
and  I  am  glad  it  is,  for  I  have  more  time  to  note  the 
motley  crowd,  and  its  representatives  aboard.  The 
Greeks  are  a  noble-looking,  independent  set  of  fellow^. 
even  now  ;  and  as  1  scan  their  fine  features,  I  am  carried 
hack  to  school-boy  days,  when  in  Homer,  I  read  of  the 
great  doings  before  the  Trojan  w^alls  of  Agamemnon,  the 
Kin-  of  .Men, — of  Achilles  and  Ajax.  Before  any  pilgrim 
was  received  aboard  the  steamer  at  Beirut,  his  fire-arms 
were  first  taken  from  him,  his  pistols,  if  loaded,  were  dis- 
charged,  and  all  locked  up,  to  be  given  to  him  at  Jaffa. 
Yet  it  is  very  different  with  us  Franks  :  I  had  a  pistol  in 
my  belt,  and  I  noticed  a  young  American  from  Boston, 
who  had  a  highly  ornamented,  but  none  the  less  deadly 
"  Colt,"  lying  negligently  in  his   pocket.      Yet  we  were 


ON     THE     MEDITERRANEAN.  429 


permitted  to  pass  with  "C'est  bien,  Monsieur."  But  the 
hour  grows  late  ;  my  companions  have  long  since  retired, 
and  I  am  writing  this  Journal  by  the  binnacle  lamp.  I 
would  fain  linger  awhile  longer,  and  watch  the  moonlight 
dancing  over  the  dark  crests,  yet  sleep  has  besieged  me, 
and  prudence  says,  "  Go  to  bed  ;" — I  obey. 


Steamer  Borysthene,  at  Sea, 
Friday,  March  18th,  1859. 
Once  again  I  am  tossed  on  the  bosom  of  the  Mediterra- 


fea,  ) 
59.  J 


"O* 


nean,  and  its  ever-ceaseless  swell  rolls  our  ship  roughly 
about.  Many  have  been  my  rovings  and  wanderings,  and 
many  weeks,  ay,  months,  have  passed  since  I  left  the  Stu- 
dent's Quarter,  in  far-off  Paris.  Ever  since  then  my  back 
has  been  on  the  West,  and  my  foot  has  trod  away  from 
home.  But  now,  indeed,  my  anxious  prow  is  turned 
toward  home,  my  distant  western  home,  beyond  the 
mighty  wash  of  the  restless  Atlantic.  Thank  God  for  it ! 
and  thank  Him  most  fervently  I  do,  for  preserving  my 
life  through  the  many  perils  I  have  run  by  sea  and  by 
land. 

We  had  a  most  calm  and  delightful  time  throughout 
the  entire  night  which  has  passed  ;  and  this  morning  when 
I  went  on  deck,  1  found  the  sea  as  smooth  as  glass.  The 
foaming  flakes  curling  under  our  bow,  told  that  our  speed 
had  much  increased.  Casting  my  eyes  around,  no  land 
was  in  sight,  and  the  sky  and  water  horizon  to  the  East, 
broken  by  the  early  rising  sun,  presented  a  grand  and 
gorgeous  panorama  of  fleecy  clouds  hanging  over  the 
background  of  deepening  purple.     It  was  a  glorious  sight, 


130  JAFFA     ONCE     MOB  E. 


and  our  well  worth  m\  earl}  rising.     Indue  time,  how- 
ever, the  long,  low   line  of  the  coast  country  came  into 
view,  and  booh  after,  the  gray,  rugged  pile  of  buildings 
perched  on  a  cliff,  and  called  Jaffa,  was  in  sight.     The 
water  was  very  smooth,  and  we  steamed  quite  close  in. 
Our  anchor-chain  rattled  through  the  hawse-hole,  and  the 
Borysthene  Bwung  lightly  around.     It  was  with  singular 
feelings  I  viewed  Jaffa  once  more,  although  my  absence 
from  it  was  brief,  and  once  again  1  thought  of  the  house 
of  the  Tanner,  of  Napoleon's  butchery,  and  of  the  lovel\ 
tnungt  groves  and  cactus  hedges  surrounding  the  place.      1 
thought  of  the  time  I  landed,  of  Padre  Geronimo,  and  of 
1  John  Montag,  and   my  musings  were  slightly  tinged 
with   melancholy.     We  quickly  discharged  our  cargo  of 
pilgrims,  and  really  it  was  worth  a  great  deal  to  stand 
snugly  sheltered  from  the  sun's  rays,  on  the  quarter-deck 
of  our  Bteamer,  as  was  our  party,  and  watch  the  motley 
mass  fairly  streaming  down  the  sides  of  the  ship.      Finally 
they  had  all  disembarked,  and  immediately  the  swabbers 
were  at  work.     In  an  hour  or  so,  the  Borysthene,  as  far 
a-  regards  order  and  cleanliness,  was  rejuvenated.     Mr. 
B — ks   (of  the  New   York  Express)   and   daughter,  who 
came  over  on  the  Vanderbilt  a  year  ago,  came  aboard  our 
Bhip.     They  had   been  on  a  tour  up  around  Jerusalem, 
the  Dead  Sea.  and  Jordan.      Ibrahim,  our  old  friend  and 
dragoman, accompanied  them  in  their  different  excursions, 
and  came  with  them  down  to  .Jaffa.      They  arrived  so  late 
last  night  that  they  were  compelled  to  remain  outside  the 
town  gates.      Ibrahim  came  aboard,  and  our  meeting  was 
mutually  pleasant.      We   remained   some  five  hours  at 


AT     ALEXANDRIA.  431 


Jaffa,  and  are  now  steaming  it  off  to  Alexandria.     The 
weather  is  very  rough. 


Harbor  of  Alexandria — aboard  ship 
Saturday,  March  19th,  1859 


:} 


To-day  has  ended ;  with  its  passing  aicay  we  have 
traversed  many  miles  of  briny  sea.  While  I  write  this 
(9  o'clock  P.  M.)  our  gallant  craft,  the  Borysthene,  lies 
snugly  in  the  harbor  of  Alexandria,  whence  we  sailed 
nineteen  days  ago,  for  Terra  Santa — and  under  what 
different  circumstances  are  we  now  situated  !  How  well 
do  I  remember  the  day  we  cast  anchor  in  this  harbor ! 
and  what  vivid  recollections  I  have  of  the  melee,  enacted 
that  afternoon  between  the  natives  and  our  passengers  at 
the  foot  of  the  gangway  of  the  Meandre  !  How  well,  too, 
do  I  recollect  the  interesting  conversation,  all  in  mother 
Deutsch,  much  to  my  discomfort — and  the  pleasant 
promenade  good  Montag  and  myself  had,  on  the  long 
quarter-deck  of  the  Meandre !  But  Montag  is  far  behind 
us  now,  amid  the  rocky  hill-tops  on  which  the  Heilige 
Stadt  is  situated,  and  I  am  here  once  more,  in  sight  of 
Pompey's  Pillar  and  the  pacha's  residence. 

This  morning  we  arose  pretty  early,  and  looked  about 
us  over  the  wide  waste  of  waters.  The  sea  was  rough, 
and  the  snow-crests  were  tumbling  after  each  other  in 
maddening  chase.  The  scene  was  grand.  The  sea  no 
longer  resembled  the  placid  mirror  of  days  gone  by — but 
rather  a  rocky,  mountainous  stretch  of  changeable  land- 
scape. I  had  a  pleasant  promenade  and  an  instructive 
conversation  with    Mr.  B — ks  of  New  York.     He   has 


432  a  I  RICA     I  N     SIGHT. 


ahva.lv  travelled  a  great  deal,  and  intends  including  Spain 
in  his  tour,  before  he  returns  to  the  United  States.  Mr. 
15 — ks  is  a  scholar,  and  a  most  affable  and  polite  gentle- 
man. 

Nothing  of  an\  note  has  marked  the  progress  of  the 
day.     We  had  an  amusing  conversation  at  the  breakfast- 
table,  this  morning,  on  appetites.      We  all  show  a  decided 
ntituck    in  that    respect,  although  we  told  Mr.  S — tt 
that    he   consumes   now  twice   as   much   as    usual,  and   he 
always  had  a  good  appetite.     He  says  it  is  on  account  of 
the  ••bracing"  mountain  air  from  up  around  Beirut  and 
Lebanon.     Perhaps  so  ;  but  the  restaurateur  of  our  ship, 
1  am   thinking,  will   bring  in    an   extra  charge  of  francs 
and  sous,  to  be  paid  by  our  reverend  friend.      And  so  the 
.lay   passed;    we   laughed,   lounged,   and  smoked.      After 
o\iq  o'clock,  the  barren  hills  of  North  Africa  once  more 
appeared  in  sight;  and  at  length,  after  line  steaming,  we 
made   this  port.      A  most  beautiful  night  surrounds  us; 
stars  are  twinkling  in  myriads  their  liquid  silver  glow  ; 
and  the  light,   tleecy   racks  of  cloud,  skimming  the   far- 
off  blue  expanse,  add  beauty  and  interest  to  the  scene. 
The  harbor  and  every  craft  in  it  are  decked  out  in  full 
dress — illumination,  &c,  in  honor  to  Prince  Alfred,  Vic- 
tor':;!-   loyal    middy.     Bands    of  music    are    discoursing 
sweetly  in  every  direction,  and  among  them   I  recognise 
the  line  corps  di  musique  aboard  the  United  States  ship 
Macedonian;  and  the  air — dear  to  every  American  heart, 
and  especially  dear  when  heard  on  the  borders  of  heathen- 
,\ttm — is  the  Star-Spangled  Banner!     1  could  shut  my 
eyes  now,  as  the  strains  float  through   my  cabin-window, 


A     DILEMMA.  433 


and  imagine  I  was  in  Castle  Garden.  We  have  been 
inspired  by  the  occasion,  and  have  indulged  in  singing 
several  of  our  national  airs,  much  to  the  pleasure,  it  is 
presumed,  of  our  French  crew.  I  have  just  come  below; 
S.  remains  on  deck,  endeavoring  to  get  a  "  lunar"  observa- 
tion, I  suppose.  Should  you  ever  see  this,  S.,  you  will 
understand  the  allusion,  and  excuse  the  execrable  pun. 
It  was  perpetrated  in  Egyptian  waters,  and  committed  by 
a  friend.  Well,  we  got  in  the  harbor  too  late  to  go  ashore 
to-night;  we  defer  our  debarking  until  the  morning. 

India  Family  Hotel,  Alexandria.  1 
Sunday,  March  20th,  1859.  j 
This  morning,  after  our  accustomed  quota  of  fuss  and 
trouble,  we  left  the  Borysthene  and  proceeded  ashore.  I 
went  on  deck  this  morning,  and  found  the  Messrs.  P.  of 
Ohio  in  a  great  stew.  They  have  been  in  Palestine  for  a 
year  or  so,  preparing  maps  and  sketches,  and  got  aboard 
our  ship  at  Jaffa.  They  had  shut  their  trunk,  which 
catches  with  a  spring-lock,  and  forgot  that  they  had  a 
moment  before  put  their  keys  inside.  Here  was  a 
dilemma,  for  their  trunks  had  to  be  opened  at  the  cus- 
tom-house, and  the  time  was  fast  approaching  when  they 
had  to  go  ashore.  My  bunch  of  keys  proved  friendly  on 
the  occasion,  and  the  trunk  was  easily  unlocked,  much  to 
their  delight.  The  same  gentlemen  also  had  some  diffi- 
culty in  regard  to  their  passports.  How  the  question  was 
settled  I  know  not ;  the  last  I  saw  of  them  at  that  time 
they  were  earnestly  engaged  in  talking  or  gesticulating 
with  a  Turkish  officer  at  the  passport  office,  as  if  endea- 

28 


I  3  I  INDIA     1'  A  M  1  !.V     BOTEL. 

voting,  though  unsatisfactorily,  to  explain  something  to 
the  official.     1  would  have  gone  back  to  the  rescue,  but 
m\  progress  backwards  was  arrested, and  I  was  told  very 
politely  that   it  was  accessary  to  attend  to  my  own  busi- 
ness.    1  thoughl  bo  myself,  and  acted  accordingly.     Later 
in  the  day  1  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  our  Buck-eye 
friends  as  large  as  Life,  and  seemingly,  and  really,  I   sup- 
pose,  enjoying   themselves    hugely,  galloping  about  the 
streets  on  donkeys  with  a  ragged  Arab  boy  behind  them. 
We   were  so  much   bored  and   importuned,  even  before 
leaving  th<  ship,  by  an  enterprising,  pushing  runner  from  the 
•  India  Family  Hotel,"  that,  to  get  some  peace,  and  get  rid 
of  the  fellow,  we  consented  to  go  to  his  house.    He  arranged 
everything  then  ;  in  a  measure  attended  to  our  baggage  at 
the  custom-house,  &c.    We  left  our  passports,  to  get  them 
again  from  our  consul  here,  Mr.  De  Lyon.     I  think  that 
gentleman  is  from  South  Carolina.    We  finally  took  a  most 
comfortable  omnibus,  and  went  to  the  hotel.     What  a  sin- 
gular feeling  it  was  to  get  into  an  omnibus  again,  after  such 
a  long  separation  from  anything  like  them.     The  streets 
through  which  we  came  to  the  hotel  were  really  fine,  and  are 
bordered  with  magnificent  houses.     Everything  bears  Eng- 
lish written  on  the  face.      And,  for  once,  I  was  truly  glad 
of  it.     We  found  the  "  India  Family"  to  be  a  very  good, 
large,  Bhowy-looking  building.     We  brushed  up,  and  par- 
took of  a  first-rate  breakfast,  and  then,  as  the  sun  was  so 
warm,   we  returned   to  our  respective   rooms,  read,  and 
arranged  our  trunks.  &c.,  which  had  been  knocked  topsy- 
turvy by  the  custom-house  officials.     This  afternoon  Dr. 
S.  and   Mr.  S— tt  went  to  church;  a  large  boil  on  my 


SWARMS    OF    WILD     FOWL.  435 


knee  prevented  me.  Esslinger  is  nearly  in  a  molten 
state,  and  swears  considerably  about  the  hot  "  vether." 
We  expect  to  go  direct  to  Cairo,  by  rail,  to-morrow 
morning,  and  will  leave  our  heavier  baggage  and  objects 
of  curiosity  here  at  the  hotel. 

Hotel  du  Nil,  Cairo, 
Monday,  March  21st,  1859. 
This  morning,  after  a  sleepless  night  on  my  part  (on 
account  of  the  boil  before  mentioned),  we  arose  and 
dressed.  Having  left  our  heavier  articles  of  baggage  at 
the  hotel,  and  having  completed  all  arrangements,  we  got 
into  an  omnibus  and  proceded  to  the  railroad  station  for 
Cairo.  We  purchased  tickets,  and  were  soon  en  route.  I 
would  like  to  describe  the  particulars  of  the  journey,  but 
my  head  aches  badly,  and  the  thickly  placed  houses  of 
Cairo,  heated  by  an  eastern  sun,  renders  the  state  of  the 
atmosphere  anything  but  agreeable.  In  passing  out  of 
Alexandria,  over  an  arm  of  the  sea  which  here  makes  in, 
we  were  not  only  astonished  but  astounded  at  the  quantity 
of  wild  game  to  be  seen,  mostly  water  fowl.  Ducks,  swans 
of  various  kinds,  plover,  cranes,  &c,  fairly  swarmed  in 
myriad  numbers  all  along  the  track  of  the  locomotive.  They 
seemed  not  at  all  frightened  at  the  proximity  of  the  iron- 
horse.  At  one  shot  I  am  sure  I  could  have  killed  two 
dozen  ducks.  I  never  saw  such  exuberance  of  game.  And 
so  it  was  all  the  way  to  Cairo — game,  game,  game.  How  I 
longed  for  a  gun  and  an  hour  or  so  of  leisure  time  !  At 
last  we  reached  the  Nile;  and,  on  account  of  the  bridge 
not  being  finished,  we  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble  crossing 


136  AKK  I  V    \  I.      A  I'     C   \  [BO. 


the  river  in  a  ferry  and  getting  in  the  cars  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  stream.  There  were  a  great  many  Egyptian 
soldiers  along,  and  the  cars  were  filled  to  overflowing j  so 
full  indeed  that  our  party  became  separated.     Esslinger 

and  myself  made  a  rush   and   seen  red    a  good   seat.      Mr. 

S — tt  and  .Miss  were   accommodated  elsewhere,  and 

S.  stood  up  tor  awhile;  finally  he  sneeeded  in  getting  a 
seat  near  as.  The  entire  valley,  from  Alexandria  to  Cairo, 
presented  one  unbroken  level  tract  teeming  with  richness, 
and  glorying  in  the  most  beautiful  yields.  On  the  route 
we  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  Mr.  McCague.  He  is  a 
resident  missionary  in  Cairo,  and  is  sent  from  Ohio,  United 
States,  lie  is  a  good  and  zealous  man,  and  gave  us  some 
excellent  advice.  1  shall  ever  be  grateful  to  him  for  his 
disinterested  kindness  towards  me.  We  had  quite  a  novel 
view  presented  at  every  station,  by  the  miserable  popula- 
tion, which  put  me  very  much  in  mind  of  the  poor  wretches 
we  saw  when  our  European  party  took  the  diligence  at 
St.  Jeanne  de  Maurienne,  previous  to  climbing  Mt.  Cenis, 
in  Savoy.  In  coming  in  we  obtained  a  noble  view  of  the 
Pyramids,  towering  aloft  in  all  their  ancient  grandeur. 

At  last  we  drew  near  the  domes  and  minarets  of  Cairo, 
and  soon  our  engine  stopped.  We  got  off,  and  after  addi- 
tional trouble  and  vexation,  during  which  our  friend  Mr. 
S — tt  came  near  caning  two.  or  three  rascals  with  genuine 
republican  liberality,  we  finally  got  into  a  carriage  and 
started  in  search  of  a  hotel.  We  went  to  two,  the  hotels 
du  Pyramids  and  Nil.  At  the  latter  we  got  lodgings,  as 
the  other  was  brimful.  And  here  we  are  at  last  in  la 
grand*  Gaire,  of  which,  its  mosques,  bazaars,  and  many 


DONKEY     RIDING.  437 


other  wonders,  I  have  read  so  often  and  so  much.  My 
feelings  are  strange ;  but  not  more  novel  than  when,  for 
the  first  time,  I  gazed  on  the  terraced  slopes  of  Mt.  Olivet. 

Hotel  du  Nil,  Cairo.  1 
Tuesday,  March  22d,  1859.  j 

Tuesday  has  passed,  and  its  fleeting  hours  have  been 
spent  by  us  in  various  ways.  Notwithstanding  I  was 
suffering  a  good  deal  this  morning,  yet  with  the  rest  I 
mounted  my  little  donkey  (I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  all 
the  rest  mounted  my  donkey),  and  away  we  went ! 
Donkeys — little  bits  of  things,  somewhat  larger  than  a 
Newfoundland  dog — are  all  the  go  here.  It  is  your  only 
mode  almost,  of  locomotion,  and  it  is  the  one  always  pre- 
ferred. A  little  donkey  boy  runs  behind  each  donkey, 
and  by  goading  the  animal  with  a  sharp  stick,  and  twist- 
ing the  tail  occasionally,  the  little  fellow  keeps  up  a  nice, 
quick,  and  most  easy  canter.  The  boy  also  guides  the  animal 
by  the  tail ;  it  is,  in  fact,  a  complete  rudder.  The  little 
donkey  boy,  directly  he  starts,  commences  with  a  sort 
of  chant  or  word  of  warning ;  I  forget  what  it  is  in 
Arabic,  but  in  English  it  is  as  follows : — "  Ho,  there  ! 
away  !  away !  Hither  comes  a  Briton,  and  a  lord  of  a 
thousand  castles !"  I  could  not  help  smiling  when  our 
long  friend  P.  from  Ohio  came  dashing  by,  his  feet  touch- 
ing the  ground,  while  he  was  accompanied  at  every 
bound  of  his  donkey  by  this  flattering  heraldry  from  his 
mule  boy. 

We  had  a  most  delicious  canter,  or  stroll  rather, 
through  the  different  quarters  of  the  city.     A  large  place 


438  SIG  BT-SEBJ  x«;     in     CAIRO. 


is  Cairo,  and  it  is  the  most  I  horoughly  ( Oriental  city  I  have 
been  in  as  yet.  Upon  inquiry  1  Learn  thai  it  contains 
four  hundred  mosques,  one  hundred  and  forty  schools, 
eleven  bazaars,  three  hundred  public  cisterns,  forty-six 
squares,  two  hundred  and  forty-eight  streets,  six  hundred 
alleys,  as  many  passages,  twelve  hundred  and  Bixty-five 
houses  of  refreshment,  one  hospital,  sixty-live  hacks,  and 
thirtj  thousand  donkeys.  The  proper  name  for  Cairo  is 
Musr  el  Kahirah,  or  Grand  Musr,  as  it  was  once  known. 
Egypt  was  once  called  Musr,  from  Mizraim,  the  son  of 
Sam.  Of  the  population  of  the  city  there  are  ten  thou- 
sand (opts,  who  alone  are  the  genuine  representatives  of 
the  ancient  Egyptians.  We  visited  the  sights  generally, 
and,  among  other  things,  a  splendid  mosque;  and,  being 
■•  infidel  dogs,'"  we  were  compelled  to  have  our  boots 
bundled  up  in  all  shapes  and  manners  to  prevent  their 
contact  with  the  floors  and  subsequent  pollution  of  the 
whole  mosque.  We  presented  just  such  a  spectacle  hob- 
bling along,  as  did  my  friends  J.  of  North  Carolina,  G.  of 
New  York,  and  myself,  at  the  castle  of  Stolzenfels  on  the 
Rhine.  TJiere  our  republican  boots  were  too  coarse  to 
stand  on  the  elaborate  and  highly-polished  wood  floors  of 
the  King  of  Prussia's  country  palace !  Well,  we  did  not 
care  in  either  case.  It  is  always  a  pleasure  with  me  to 
conform  to  any  decent  custom  of  whatever  people  I  may 
be  thrown  among. 

It  was  an  interesting  feature  to  observe  no  object  of 
idolatry  in  the  mosques.  Mohammedans  worship  no  "  pic- 
tun.-,  wafers,  or  statues."  They  do  not  consider  them 
instrumental    by    any   means    to    their   devotions.     The 


HELIOPOLIS.  439 


Bazaars  through  which  we  passed  were  really  superb — 
such  a  magnificent  display  of  silks  and  cloths,  embroidery, 
swords,  firelocks,  pipes,  sashes,  and  all  that  is  rich !  Very 
different  are  these  bazaars  from  those  of  Jaffa  or  Jerusa- 
lem. What  a  queer  sight  to  an  American  is  a  bazaar ! 
It  is  easier  imagined  than  described.  I  contented  myself 
with  buying  a  sash  or  so,  a  pair  of  Arab  slippers  beauti- 
fully embroidered,  and  a  handsome  chibouk.  I  had  a 
right  stiff  quarrel  with  a  Turk  about  a  tarbush  (a  small 
red  skull-cap  much  worn  by  the  Eastern  dwellers).     Miss 

,  who  was  along,  made  several  purchases,  and  to  a 

better  advantage,  she  being  able  to  speak  their  own  lan- 
guage. 

We  finally  returned  to  the  hotel,  tired  and  worn  out, 
all  pleased  with  the  sights  of  the  morning,  but  a  sight 
more  c7ispleased  with  our  guide — a  genuine  native  Maltese 
scamp.  In  the  afternoon  I  was  compelled  to  remain  in 
my  room,  as  I  was  too  unwell  to  go  about  any  at  all.     S., 

Mr.  S — tt.  and  Miss went  to  Heliopolis — the  small 

spot  remarkable  for  being  the  place  where  Joseph  the 
carpenter  dwelt  for  awhile,  and  where  "  the  young  child 
Jesus"  was  hid  from  Herod's  wrath.  Our  party  imagined 
they  went  to  Heliopolis ;  but  when  near  their  arrival  to 
the  city  after  the  trip,  what  was  their  surprise  and  anger 
when  Joseph,  the  Maltese  guide,  coolly  told  them  that 
he  had  not  taken  them  to  Heliopolis  at  all — that  it  was 
too  hot  for  that  trip,  but  he  had  taken  them  in  about  a 
mile  of  the  spot !  A  good  laugh  I  had  at  the  party  when 
they  told  me  of  the  circumstance ;  but  Joseph's  skin  was 
by  no  means  safe,  and  he  came  very  near  meeting  with  a 


A      w  K  V  1CV     DA  V. 

»  \< 'ic  castigation  at  the  hands  of  S.,  and  Mr.  S — tt  and 
••  Heliopolis  Joe"  (as  we  christened  the  guide)  came  very 
Dear  having  a  rough  and  tumble  set-to  when  they  all 
got  back;  after  dinner  they  had  another  fuss,  at  which 
1  was  much  amused.  Maltese  or  uo  Maltese,  in  Egypt 
or  any  other  country,  the  rascal  has  caught  a  Tartar  when 
he  encounters  Mr.  S — tt.      And  so  the  day  passed. 

Hold  da  Nil,  Cairo, 
Wednesday,  March  23d,  1859. 

At  last  this  dull,  wearisome,  turn  ace-like  day,  has 
dragged  its  slow  length  away,  and  I  have  suffered  agony 
with  that  boil !  and  yet,  for  a  time,  it  must  be  endured. 
All  of  my  party  went  out  this  morning  voyaging  after 
new  sights,  except  poor  me.  I  could  scarcely  move,  and 
it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  and  the  most  excruci- 
ating pain,  that  I  could  get  down  to  the  meals.  But  to 
Btay  in  the  house  was  agony  in  the  extreme,  and  I  could 
lot.  and  would  not,  stay  in  all  the  time,  so  I  ordered  a 
donkey,  took  a  dragoman,  and  away  I  went.  I  endea- 
vored to  forget  the  pain  I  was  undergoing,  but  no  use  ! 
It  was  there  !  I  purchased  an  Egyptian  gun,  some  Lada- 
kiyeh  tobacco,  some  other  trifles,  and  returned  to  the 
hotel,  almost  completely  broken  down.  I  amused  myself 
in  different  ways,  until  our  party  returned,  which  was  at 
a  very  late  hour. 

To-night  our  party  separates.  Loth  am  I  to  write  these 
words,  for  it  is  tearing  asunder  a  soul-tie,  a  heart>string  to 
separate  from  agreeable,  whole-souled  companions,  who 
are  rendered  dear  to  you  by  the  mutual  sharing  together 


LEAVE     CAIRO.  441 


of  many  joys  and  dangers.  We  have  been  together  now 
since  we  sailed  from  Malta,  and  have  passed  through 
many  sore  times  of  trouble  and  of  danger.  We  have  this 
night  to  talk  our  last  talk  together,  and  we  part  to-mor- 
row morning.  It  is  a  sad  time,  truly,  to  me,  and  the 
parting  is  painful  to  all.  We  are  now,  even  while  I  pen- 
cil my  hasty  scribblings  in  my  little  pocket  Journal,  seated 
around  a  table  in  silence  and  sorrow,  sipping  slowly  the 
parting  glass  of  friendship ;  and  as  the  champagne  spark- 
les in  the  goblet,  and  I  raise  my  head  for  a  moment  to 
drink  to  a  parting  toast,  I  see  in  the  eye  of  each  the  pure, 
glittering  tear-drop,  the  more  strengthening  pledge  of 
friendship  and  affection.     The  glass  is  drained. 

S.  and  Esslinger  will  remain  a  few  days  longer,  while 

Miss ,  Mr.  S — tt,  and  myself,  will  return  to-morrow 

morning  to  Cairo,  thence  to  embark  in  the  first  boat  for 
Malta,  and  the  West.  Good-bye  to  Cairo,  and  to  my 
warm-hearted  friends  whom  I  here  leave ! 


India  Family  Hotel,  Alexandria. 
Thursday,  March  24  th, 


:andria.  ) 
i,  1859.  j 


This  morning  we  bade  adieu  to  Egyptian  Cairo,  and 
after  completing  our  arrangements,  settling  our  bill,  &c, 
not  forgetting  to  quarrel  a  little  with  "  Heliopolis  Joe,"  the 
Maltese  scamp,  we  sprang  into  a  carriage,  and  saying  a 
sorrowful  and  heartfelt,  sad  farewell,  to  Esslinger  and  S., 
we  drove  to  the  depot.  We  had  not  a  minute  to  spare ; 
we  purchased  tickets,  and  while  engaged  thus,  we  met  a 
very  gentlemanly  resident  of  Cairo,  who  was  a  passenger 
with  us   to  Alexandria,  on   the   Meandre.      Just  before 


RIVAL     BOAT    COMPANIES 


getting  aboard  the  car-.  Mr.  S — tt  took  occasion,  in  real 
American  style,  to  give  "  Beliopolis  Joe"  a  good  "  blowing 

up."  and  in  pla.c  of  bakhshish,  came  near  giving  bim 
back  licks  with  his  umbrella.  Bui  we  finally  started  off, 
and  then  we  had  a  repetition  of  a  dusty,  wear}  journey, 
up  to  Alexandria,  and  found  our  way  eventually  to  our 
old  place,  the  -India  Family  Hotel."  Mr.  S— tt  has 
been  ver}  brisk  and  business-like,  since  we  arrived,  and 
has  already  engaged  passage  by  the  English  steamer, 
Laconia,  for  Liverpool,  via  Malta,  to  leave  day  after  to- 
morrow, at  twelve  o'clock,  M.  How  glad  I  am  to  be 
directly  on  my  way  home,  after  having  accomplished  so 
much  ! 

English  ship  Laconia,  Harbor  of  Alexandria.  ) 
Friday.  March  25th,  1859.  j 
This  day,  /  am  glad  to  say,  has  passed,  gone  at  last, 
and  joy  go  with  it.  In  misery  and  pain,  its  slow,  dull 
hours  have  dragged  away  to  me.  I  read,  smoked,  and 
talked,  took  a  miserable  lunch,  &c,  &C.  After  dinner, 
having  settled  our  bill,  we  drove  to  the  wharf.  Here,  of 
course,  in  getting  rid  of  the  carriage,  we  had  a  genuine 
fuss.  At  last  everything  was  arranged,  and  we  got  into 
a  boal  to  go  off  to  the  Laconia.  I  consider  ourselves  for- 
tunate in  progressing  thus  far,  for  Mr.  S — tt  came  within 
an  ace  of  falling  into  the  dock  several  times,  head  and  ears. 
But  our  trouble-  had  but  as  begun.  It  seems  that  there 
were  two  rival  boat  companies,  and  we,  unwittingly,  had 
tak<-n  the  one  which  bad  the  most  timid  defenders.  The 
other  boat  company  came  dashing  up  in  their  boat  and 
threw  their  hand-  on  ours,  and  in  a  most  impudent,  leering 


A     BATTLE.  443 

manner,  stopped  our  onward  way.  Not  content  with  this, 
they  jeered  us  and  our  cowardly  crew,  and  denied  our 
further  progress.  This  was  more  than  Mr.  S — tt  could 
stand.  Springing  to  his  feet  with  the  activity  of  a  deer, 
he  rushed  on  the  ringleader,  collared  him  firmly,  and 
threw  him  headlong  into  his  own  boat.  The  man  was  a 
tall,  swarthy  negro,  equal  to  two  men  like  S — tt  in  a 
continued  physical  encounter.  As  he  arose,  he  muttered 
something  to  his  companions,  and  sprang  into  our  boat. 

Affairs  were   getting  serious ;   Miss  gallantly  drew 

my  gun  from  its  cover  and  taunted  the  rascal.  On  he 
came,  S — tt  stood  his  ground,  his  heavy  umbrella 
clenched  firmly  in  his  hand.  Matters  were  coming  to  a 
crisis,  and  I  was  determined  to  defend  my  friend  and 
myself;  I  immediately  rose,  and  drawing  a  small  Colt's 
revolver  from  my  pocket,  I  covered  the  head  of  the 
advancing  rascal.  He  recoiled  and  retreated  pace  by 
pace.  Had  he  made  a  single  menacing  demonstration,  I 
should  most  assuredly  have  tried  my  skill  at  "  target 
practice."  It  is  a  great  wonder  to  me,  an  example  has 
not  been  made  of  these  rascals  before  this.  It  would 
scarcely  be  murder,  or  homicide  even — for  they  are  brutes 
to  all  intents — to  kill  a  half-dozen  of  these  monsters. 
But  our  boat  was  freed  from  their  clutches,  and  bidding 
our  cowardly  oarsman  to  give  way,  we  soon  reached  the 
gallant  Laconia,  which  lay  out  in  the  harbor,  swinging 
lightly  on  her  anchor.  We  met  with  a  most  cordial 
reception  from  the  captain  of  our  steamer,  and  now,  after 
a  delicious  real  English  teay  we  are  sitting  around  the 
cabin,  laughing  and  talking  the  time  away.     I  only  hope 


Ml  ON     BOA  RD    Til  E    LAOON  I  A. 


my  good  friend  S..  who  is  now  in  Cairo,  may  get  as  good 
a    berth.      I    forgOl    U)    stale    thai     Pompey's    Pillar,    and 

Cleopatra's  Needle  (once  called  Pharaoh's  Needle),  those 
antiehristian  monuments  of  antiquity,  claimed  from  me, 
to-day,  their  due  share  of  attention;  and  now  for  a  .stroll 

011  deck. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Malta  Cross  Hotel,  Valetta,  ) 
Friday,  April  1st,  1859.  j 
INCE    the   foregoing   Journal   was    written    many 
things  have  transpired,  and  many  watery  leagues 
now  stretch  between  us  and  far  away  Alexandria. 
We  were  to   sail,   it  will   be   remembered,   on 
Saturday,  26th  March,  at  12  o'clock  m.  ;  but  we  did  not 
ease  our  anchors  and    steam  out  of  the  harbor  until  4 
o'clock  that  afternoon;   and  we  went  out   then  with   a 
heavy  sea  on,  and  a  furious  gale  in  our  teeth.     Our  pro- 
gress was  slow,  and  the  ship  labored  heavily.    The  storm 
continued  all  that  night  and  next  day ;   but  after  that  we 
had  beautiful  weather,  which  lasted  until  yesterday,  when 
we  once  again  cast  our  anchor  in  the  port  of  Valetta. 

I  was  much  pleased  with  my  voyage  on  the  Laconia, 
though,  if  the  truth  be  told,  she  is  a  slow  boat — slower 
even  than  the  old  Meandre.  The  discipline  on  the  Eng- 
lish steamer  showed  a  marked  superiority  to  what  we 
experienced  on  the  French  boat.  I  like  the  officers  and 
the  ship  very  much,  and  will  long  have  pleasant  recollec- 
tions of  both.  I  wish  them  many  safe  and  prosperous 
voyages. 

Yesterday,  after  some  port  formalities,  during  which  an 

(445) 


1  hi  SIGHTS    IN     M  A  l.TA. 


English  official  made  himself  a  complete  ass  concerning 
our  passports,  we  finally  went  ashore.  A.ngelo,  the  good 
waiter  of  the  Malta  Cross  Hotel,  mel  us  at  the  boat — of 
course  not  expecting  us.  He  was  glad  to  sec  me3  who, 
the  only  remnant,  represented  our  original  party;  S.  and 
Meinherr  being  now  both  "beyond  the  sea."  Angelowas 
accompanied  by  our  whole  force  to  his  hotel,  where  I 
enjoyed  myself  so  much  on  those  cold  nights  in  February 
— and  here  we  are  again  !  It  makes  me  (eel  sad,  if  the 
truth  be  told,  to  be  here  once  more  in  .Malta;  yet  I  am 
inexpressibly  glad  to  be  on  my  way  home.  I  cannot  help 
remembering  the  happy,  joyous  week  S.,  Meinherr,  and 
myself  spent  here  together.     But  where  are  they  now? 

After  being  refreshed  by  a  good  night's  rest,  we  arose 
this  morning  bright  and  early,  and,  breakfast  once  over, 
we  proceeded  immediately  to  the  arrangement  of  our 
tickets    and    passports.      This    being    through   with,    I 

escorted  Miss to  see  the  different  sights  of  interest; 

among  them  the  splendid  church  of  San  Giovanni,  or  St. 
q,  where  four  hundred  knights  of  the  order  of  St.  John 
are  buried.  The  tombs  of  these  heroes — slabs  of  beautiful, 
different-colored  marble,  with  their  hcraldric  symbols 
engraved  thereon — formed  the  floor,  and  a  magnificent 
floor  it  is!  We  were  glad  to  meet  Mr.  and  Miss  B — ks  in 
the  church.  They  had  jusl  gotten  in  from  Alexandria, 
in  the  British  ship  Para,  and  gave  us  the  glad  news  that 
S  also  was  a  passenger  on  the  same  craft.  Mr.  B — ks 
will  continue  in  the  Para  as  far  as  Gibraltar.  There  he 
will  debark,  and  proceed  to  the  different  cities  of  Spain. 

Mi-s  and    myself  continued  our  walk  about  the 


DIFFERENT     PATHS.  447 


town,  and  bought  several  articles  as  momentoes.  While 
in  a  shop,  examining  some  object  for  sale,  who  should 
walk  right  in  but  our  good  friend  S. !  I  was  overjoyed  to 
see  him,  and  looking  so  well  after  our  short  separation. 
He  gave  me  the  last  tidings  of  good  old  Esslinger,  whom 
he  left  in  Alexandria,  awaiting  the  departure  of  an  Aus- 
trian boat  for  Trieste,  whither  he  intended  sailing;  by 
this  time  he  is  on  his  watery  way.  God  stand  by  him  ! 
And  so  S.  and  myself  are  once  more  together — we,  the 
two  survivors  of  our  original  Jerusalem  part}' ;  and  yet 
in  a  few  more  days  I  journey  alone.  To-morrow,  at  5 
o'clock,  we  leave  by  the  French  steamer  Vatican ;  I,  for 
Naples  and  the  Italian  ports  in  general,  en  route  to  Paris, 

via  Marseilles.     Dr.  S.,  Mr.   S — tt,  and  Miss ,  will 

go  as  far  as  Civita  Vecchia;  thence  they  go  to  Rome. 
Mr.  S — tt's  wife  is  in  Rome.  I  would  like  to  accompany 
them ;  but,  as  I  have  seen  Rome,  I  must  forego  the 
pleasure. 

Steamer  Vatican.  \ 
Saturday,  April  2d,  1859.  j 
This  day  has  passed  indifferently  well,  and  I  am  glad 
to  come  once  more  to  my  Journal,  to  say  that  it  is  finished. 
We  rambled  about  a  good  deal  in  Valetta — bought  our 
tickets,  and  made  several  purchases  of  Maltese  lace, 
brooches,  &c.  I  bought  a  ticket  to  carry  me  as  far  as 
Marseilles,  my  friends  having  bought  theirs  for  Civita 
Vecchia — that  looks  like  going  in  different  directions,  and 
smacks  of  parting  already.  But  it  cannot  be  helped ; 
necessity  is  stern,  and  never  knows  but  one  law — the  law 
of  circumstance,  which  governs  all  actions. 


IIs  A     STORM  V     PASSAGE. 


At  four  o'clock  i'.  K.,  we  bade  the  Malta  Cross  Hotel 
and  it-  attaches,  a  Long  Lasting  farewell.  I  never  again 
expect  to  Bee  the  cunning  face  of  Miohele  Pisani,  nor  the 
good-humored  handsome  features  <>l*  Angelo,  his  head 
waiter  So  it  must  be!  After  experiencing  our  due 
amount  of  trouble,  we  finally  got  aboard  a  small  row-boat, 
and  in  a  very  rough  swell,  we  pulled  to  the  Vatican, 
which  was  Lying  out  in  the  harbor.  We  got  aboard  the 
steamer  at  last,  and  soon  had  everything  stowed  away 
snugly — my  own  fixings  being  now  at  rest  until  I  reach 
Marseilles.  I  saw  .Mr.  Winthrop,  our  consul,  on  the 
Vatican  ;  he  merely  came  aboard  to  see  Mrs.  Levy  (wife 
of  the  captain  of  the  U.  S.  ship  Macedonian,  which  our 
parte  saw  in  the  port  of  .Alexandria)  safely  aboard. 
Finally,  the  anchor  was  swung  from  its  muddy  bed, 
and  the  Vatican  moved  slowly  out  of  the  narrow  entrance. 
A  most  violent  gale  was  blowing,  and  a  terrible  sea 
running.  They  struck  our  little  craft  with  full  force  as 
soon  as  we  got  clear  of  the  island,  and  came  near  knock- 
ing us  abeam  end.  I  have  never  seen  such  a  sea  in  my 
life ;  but  our  noble  steamer  held  gallantly  on,  boldly 
buffeting  the  foaming  billows  which  curled  over  her,  and 
drenched  her  from  stem  to  stern.  Ever  since  we  started, 
it  has  been  blowing  the  biggest  kind  of  "big  guns,"  and 
even  now  while  I  write,  the  wildest  storm  is  raging  I 
ever  beheld.  The  wind  howls  fearfully  through  the 
rigging — the  ship  struggles  undecidedly  onward,  and 
plunges  into  the  dark  pitchy  gloom  as  if  seeking  another 
and  still  more  confused  chaos.  Still,  the  captain  walks 
his    deck    as    calmly    as    ever  —  twirls    his    pomatumed 


ARRIVE     AT     MESSINA.  449 


moustache,  and  no  doubt  thinks  of  the  light  gaieties  in 
his  far-off  brilliant  French  capital.  Our  party  have 
nearly  all  succumbed.  S.  and  myself  are  now  for  the 
deck ;  wind,  rain,  and  sea-spray  are  all  preferable  to  the 
miserable  air  of  this  saloon. 

Steamer  Vatican — Port  of  Messina.  ) 
Sunday,  April  3d,  1859.  J 

After  a  most  tempestuous  passage,  and  one  fraught  with 
very  great  danger,  we  have  arrived  safe  and  sound  once 
again  at  Messina;  and  our  gallant  Vatican  is  none  the 
worse  for  her  almost  superhuman  struggles  of  last  night. 
Throughout  the  live-long  night  the  boat  tumbled,  tossed, 
and  pitched,  and  the  dawn  broke,  and  found  the  gale  still 
raging  around  us,  though  a  clear  sky  was  above.  As  we 
dashed  along  to  the  narrow  entrance  of  the  inlet  to  the 
harbor  of  Messina,  between  the  classic  Charybdis  and 
Scylla,  we  had  a  most  enchanting  view  of  the  rude 
Calabrian  coast,  in  all  its  rugged  loveliness.  It  was, 
indeed,  a  romantic  and  inspiring  sight,  to  see  those  naked 
rugged  mountains  raising  their  black  jagged  cliffs  towards 
the  sky,  while  on  their  sides  stood,  in  the  melancholy  of 
decay,  all  that  remained  of  many  lordly  castles  of  yore. 

We  finally  arrived  at  this  port  at  ten  o'clock  A.  m. 
And  here  again,  as  I  look  around  at  the  familiar  objects 
to  be  seen  from  shipboard — the  large  fort  standing  out  on 
a  tongue  of  land,  protecting  the  inlet;  the  succession  of 
gray  rocky  mountains,  rolling  back  over  Sicily;  and  the 
little  dirty  collection  of  houses  at  the  foot  of  these 
mountains,  ranged  in  a  semicircle  around  the  shores  of 

29 


,  "-I  I    YOUNG    PR]  EST. 

tin'  Ikiy — 1  caimol  help  feeling  somewhal  sad  at  the 
Election  of  the  first  time  1  beheld  these  objects.  Then, 
Montag  was  with  us,  and  I  know  not  Mr.  S — tt  or  Conrad 
Esslinger;  then,  I  had  not  looked  on  the  departed  glories 
of  lost  Jerusalem,  or  stood  amid  the  drop  silence  of  the 
valley  of  Jordan;  and  the  hills  of  Judea  wore  far  away 
from  my  vision.  And  as  1  thus  indulge  my  fancy,  I 
cannot  but  feel  sad.  We  meet  and  make  friends  but  to 
separate  again — very  often  for  eternity;  meetings  are 
sadder  in  reality  than  partings.     Well!  well! 

The  day  has  passed  in  several  ways  with  me.  Accord- 
in -j  to  a  certain  natural  proclivity,  1  have  made  several 
acquaintances;  among  them  is  a  young  Irish  priest. 
Poor  fellow,  how  sorry  I  am  for  him!  He  has  been  for 
five  years  in  India,  and  is  now  coming  home — to  diej 
That  fell  destroyer,  consumption,  has  laid  its  wasting 
hand  upon  him  ;  and  each  heated  breath  he  respires,  tells  of 
the  raging  fever  within.  He  possesses  one  of  the  brightest 
of  minds:  is  a  pel  feet  scholar;  can  converse  readily  in 
Latin.  Greek,  and  Hebrew,  and  in  German,  French, 
Italian,  and  Spanish.  lie  is  on  his  way  to  Rome,  to 
glance — a  last  -lance — at  her,  as  his  educational  and 
religious  mother.  Thence  he  goes  to  Ireland;  thereto 
lay  his  bono-,  in  a  soil  which  might  well  be  proud  of  such 
talents  and  kind-heartedness  as  the  young  priest  possesses. 

This  afternoon  an  English  steamer  came  in  and 
anchored.  There  are  two  American  brigs  lying  at  the 
wharf;  th<\  arc  fruit  vessels.  The  stars  and  stripes 
which  float  above  them,  look  natural,  and  present  a 
gladdening  sight  to  our  eyes,  so  long  unaccustomed  to 


STROMBOLI.  451 


look  on  the  symbol  of  Columbia.  We  leave  this  port  to- 
morrow afternoon,  at  half-past  one  o'clock. 

Steamer  Vatican — off  Stromboli — half-past  11  p.  M.  J 

Monday,  April  4th,  1859.  f 

Monday  has  passed,  and  what  have  I  to  record  ? 
Nichts  viel.  But  what  I  have,  must  be  done  quickly, 
for  it  is  fast  growing  towards  midnight,  and  I  wish  to 
sleep  some  to-night — a  privilege — rather,  a  luxury  I  have 
not  enjoyed  for  several  twenty-four  hours  past. 

After  lying  at  Messina  until  one  p.  m.,  we  steamed  out 
once  more   to  sea,   and   have    until   now  enjoyed   most 

propitious    weather.      Miss ,   however,    is    sea-sick 

again,  in  spite  of  the  calm  weather.  We  are  now  off 
Stromboli,  the  burning  mountain,  and  a  most  lovely 
spectacle  is  presented.  The  enormous  mountain  rises 
perpendicularly  out  of  the  deep  sea,  to  the  height  of 
several  thousand  feet.  We  are  now  in  the  large  shadow 
of  it,  and  as  the  liquid  lava,  molten  to  a  red  candescent 
heat,  bursts  with  a  fiery  propulsion  high  in  air,  and  then 
falls  in  the  dark  waters  around,  in  a  perfect  shower  of 
sparkling  fire,  the  scene  is  indeed  most  grand  and  lovely. 
I  could  willingly  enjoy  the  spectacle  longer,  but  the 
Vatican  "  waits  for  no  man" — and  we  are  fast  drawing 
away  from  it.  I  have  taken  a  rough  outline  of  the  moun- 
tain, which  I  shall  preserve.  Mr.  S — tt  is  in  raptures, 
and  S.  is  down  below,  sick  and  asleep.  To-morrow 
morning,  if  no  untoward  accident  intervenes,  we  will  be 
before   Naples   again,    whence  I  sailed  the  14th   day  of 


E)2  OFF     NAPLES. 


February.     Now  to  bed.     Come,  Mr.  S — tt!  the  hour  is 


plea.  I 
859.  j 


getting  "  a)  ant  the  twal." 


Steamer  Valium — Off  Naples. 
Tuesdaj .  April  5th,  l*; 

Once  again  1  breathe  Neapolitan  air — once  more  I 
behold,  Btretching  along  the  bold  curve  of  this  beautiful 
bay,  the  gay  Chiaia  ;  and  here  behind  me,  away  up  yonder 
in  silence  and  grandeur,  Vesuvius  is  smoking  away  as 
angrily  as  ever.  My  emotions,  to  say  the  least,  are  pecu- 
liar, as  once  again  1  find  myself  looking  on  Naples. 
Since  last  1  stood  here,  what  a  change,  what  a  revolution 
of  accidents,  incidents,  and  sight-seeing  has  been  mine: 
and  under  far  different  circumstances  am  I  as  regards 
physical  health.  1  am  much  improved.  It  was  here 
in  Naples  that  1  last  saw  my  good  friends  who  were 
early  with  me  in  my  stay  in  Paris — both  true  and  firm 

friends — S-t-r-t  of  Albany  and  A n  of  Philadelphia. 

Where  they  are  now,  I  know  not.  It  was  here,  too,  that 
1  last  saw  J.,  my  constant  companion  in  my  continental 
rambles ;  and  here,  too,  I  bade  adieu  to  kind-hearted 
Prank  <>.  of  New  York,  my  confrere  of  many  hard  times 
in  Paris  and  continental  Europe.  And  since  I  stood  here 
1  have  wandered  through  the  sacred  precincts  of  Jerusa- 
lem, have  slept  in  .Jericho  by  Jordan,  have  gazed  on 
Lebanon,  and  admired  the  beauty  of  La  Grande  Caire, 
and  the  grandeur  of  the  Desert's  Monuments — yet  here  1 
am  again. 

We   arrived  quite  early  this   morning  into   port,  and 
after  fixing   up  a  little,  and  donning  a  somewhat  better 


A    RIDE     IN     NAPLES.  453 


attire.  S.  and  self  went  ashore.  Mr.  S — tt  remained  on 
account  of  wrong  visee  on  his  passport.  S.  and  self  im- 
mediately took  a  carriage — for  the  smallness  of  which 
Naples  is  noted — and  had  a  splendid  ride  about  the  town. 
We  went  to  the  Hotel  de  France,  where  I  left  my  trunk 
when  I  sailed  hence,  and  then  we  rode  up  to  the  banking- 
house  of  the  Rothschilds,  where  S.  drew  some  money. 
We  returned  by  the  Hotel  de  Belle  Vue,  where  my 
party,  i.e.,  Frank  G.,  J — s,  and  myself  stopped  when  in 
Naples  a  month  ago.  There  I  found  a  letter  from 
Frank  G.,  which  he  had  written  a  few  days  after  I  had 
sailed  for  Malta.  He  did  not  leave  the  city  for  a 
fortnight  after  I  did.  It  seems  he  enjoj'ed  himself 
very  much.  I  do  not  know  where  he  went  from  here ; 
he  simply  said,  "  I'll  be  in  Paris  by  1st  of  April."  I  hope 
I  may  find  him  there.  In  the  letter,  he  gave  me  the  sad 
information  that  the  interesting  English  girl  whom  we  had 
remarked  at  the  hotel  for  her  sweetness  of  manners  and 
for  her  beauty,  was  dead.  Truly  "  all  flesh  is  grass  !"  G. 
also  informed  me  that  my  guide,  to  whom  I  referred  in 
the  first  page  of  this  Journal,  did  not  cheat  me  after  all. 
However,  I  saw  the  guide  late  in  the  day,  and,  notwith- 
standing his  protestations  of  innocence,  I  yet  believe  him 
guilty.  After  purchasing  several  minor  articles,  S.  and 
self  drove  to  the  wharf,  and  after  some  difficulty  with  a 
harbor  policeman,  which  S.  came  near  finishing  by  pitch- 
ing the  obstinate  rascal  into  the  bay,  we  climbed  the 
gangway  of  the  Vatican. 

My  continental  Journal  I  finished  at  this  place ;  and 
here  on  the   14th  of  February  I   commenced    this,  my 


J".  ;  A.    PARTING     M  EAL. 


Eastern  Journal.  As  1  cast  my  eyes  over  the  several 
little  cahiere  which  I  have  written  since  that  time,  and  I 
remember  what  is  contained,  written  roughly  with  pencil, 
within  their  lids,  1  Bigh  for  the  joys  1  have  seen. 

Here,  properly  speaking,  I  should  conclude  my  Journal 
for  the  reader,  and  say  to  him  a  cordial  good-bye;  hut  I 
imagine  he  or  she  would  have  no  objection  to  tracing  up 

the  eventful  separation  of  our  party  and  its  complete  dis- 
memberment,  and  to  following  me  to  Napoleon's  gay 
capital.  But,  as  the  steamer  is  getting  under  weigh,  I 
will  elose  my  hook  and  take  a  last  glimpse  of  Vesuvius, 

and ah  !   the  wheels  move — we   glide  easily  away — 

good-bye,  Naples,  good-bye! 

Steamer  Vatican — At  sea,  between  Civita- 
Vecehia  and  Leghorn. 
Wednesday,  April  6th,  1859. ^ 

Once  more  I  am  "  rocked  in  the  cradle  of  the  deep." 
I  cannot  write  much;  my  heart  is  sad,  and,  worse  than 
that,  1  have  a  burning,  throbbing  head-ache.  My  friends 
are  now  all  gone,  and  1  am  alone.  But  I  will  not 
anticipate. 

Yesterday  afternoon  at  four  o'clock  we  raised  our 
anchor  and  eased  out  of  the  harbor  at  Naples.  We  had 
beautiful  weather,  and  the  Vatican  went  well.  Night 
came  on,  and  there  being  such  fine  weather,  the  table 
was  full,  and.  we  had  fun  in  abundance;  hut  it  was  like 
laughing  al  a  funeral  with  me,  for  it  was  my  last  dinner 
and  last  meal  with  my  party.  Dinner  over,  I  enjoyed  a 
parting  conversation  with  S.,  S — tt,  and  Miss ;  and 


CIVITA     VECCHIA.  455 


after  having  copied  some  sketches  of  Etna  and  Stromboli 
for  Mr.  S — tt,  I  bade  them  good-night  and  retired. 

Early  this  morning  we  were  in  the  port  of  Civita  Vec- 
chia;  and  how  memories,  even  of  such  short  standing, 
crowded  back  over  my  mind !  How  well  I  remembered 
our  diligence  excursion  on  our  first  arrival,  and  how  well 
I  remember  the  Hotel  Orlandi!  Well,  having  arranged 
everything  to  their  satisfaction  this  morning,  my  friends 

Miss ,  Dr.  S.,  and  Mr.  S — tt  were  ready  to  leave  the 

steamer.  They  hated,  as  I  did,  this  parting  scene ;  but  it 
was  necessary ;  all  felt  and  showed  emotion.  I  cannot 
dwell  on  this  scene;  the  thousand  recollections  that 
crowd  over  me  now  in  one  minute  are  overwhelming.  A 
cordial  and  prolonged  grasp  of  the  hand,  a  hasty  though 
heart-felt  "God  bless  you"  was  murmured  on  both  sides, 
and  my  friends  were  gone.  I  watched  their  fast-fading 
figures,  until  they  had  landed,  and  were  lost  from  my 
straining  gaze  amid  the  crowd  that  jostled  on  the  wharves. 

I  am  one  of  those,  who,  other  things  being  equal,  am 
inclined  to  bear  up  pretty  well  against  all  such  petty  and 
temporary  emotions  as  these,  so  I  laughed  "  dull  care 
away,"  and  enjoyed  myself  as  well  as  could  be  expected. 
I  got  acquainted  with  a  young  man  from  Boston,  and  a 
capital  companion  he  is.  He  is  acquainted  with  some 
old  college-mates  of  mine,  of  Brown  University  memory. 
We  passed  the  day  quite  pleasantly,  being  much  amused 
at  a  representative  from  Albion,  our  blest  motherland. 
Unfortunately  my  newly  made  friend  is  only  going  as 
far  as  Genoa  with  me ;  thence  he  goes  to  Venice,  thence 
to  Dresden,  to  college. 


M  EMOR  I  I  S    OF     LEG  HOB  V 


s     imboat   Vatican,  between  Leghorn  and  a*  mm. 
Thursday .  A  pril 


intl  Genoa.  ) 
7i!i.  L859.  J 


This  morning  when    I   awoke,  after  a  most   refreshing 

jht's  slumber,  we  were  motionless  in  the  placid  harbor 

of   Italian  Livorno.      As  1  gazed  through  my  small,  round 

window,  out  upon  the  old,  familiar  place  memories  of 
friends,  and  of  other,  though  not  very  distanl  do.ys, 
rushed  in  trooping  cohorts  over  my  mind.  I  lay  for  an 
hour  or  so,  pleasantly  indulging  in  this  wide-awake  dream 
of  other  friends,  of  other  days,  of  other  funs  and  sorrows. 
When  last  1  stood  in  Leghorn  1  remembered  well,  and 
the  troubles  which  beset  our  part}-,  which  was  then  styled 
the  "  trots  des  immorteU"  were  not  few — that  I  remember 
also.  Where  now  are  J.,  and  Frank  G.  ?  Far  away! 
And  vet  my  eyes  rest  on  the  dull,  gray  houses  of  Leg- 
horn, and   wander   along   yonder   crowded   wharf,  where 

•  we  three  Lounged  in  the  full  flush  of  health  and 
happiness  together.  The  day  passed  rather  heavily  and 
dull,  notwithstanding  my  young  Boston  friend  and  myself 
did  our  best  to  amuse  one  another.  We  laughed,  we 
sketched,  we  ate  oranges,  ottoper  nn<i  biacchio,  and  thus  the 
time  dragged  away.  I  saw  young  Dr.  B.,  of  Lynn,  Massa- 
chusetts,  with  whom  1  had  often  gone  the  rounds  of  La 
•  'harite  Hospital.  He  was  glad  to  see  me,  and  we  had 
;in  interesting  t;:lk  over  old  times.  He  leaves  the  boat  at 
Genoa,  with  my  young  Boston  friend.  I  "scraped 
acquaintance"  with    old    Dr.   Townsend,   of   Sarsaparilla 

ttory,  to-day.     He  is  enjoying  a  continental  tour.     He 

is  a  nice   old  gentleman,  lull  of  life  and  fun.     He,  like- 

•   the  steamer  ;it  Genoa,  the  port  to  which  we 


AN    INQUISITIVE    LADY.  457 


are  now  fast  dashing.  Once  more  then,  I  will  be  alone, 
but  not  lonesome,  as  long  as  I  can  look  around  me  ;  I  am 
glad  I  am  getting  so  near  to  Paris,  that  city  seems  like  my 

second  home.     We  sailed  from  Leghorn  at  4  o'clock,  P.  M. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

Friday,  April  8th,  1859. 

I  omitted  to  write  up  yesterday's  Journal  last  night, 
and  will  now  do  so  to-day. 

Thursday,  April  9th,  1859. 

It  is  now  past  mid-day,  and  I  am  sitting  in  a  close, 
heated  room  in  the  Hotel  d ' Alexandrie,  in  the  old  sea-port 
Marseilles.  Singular  how  time  changes  scenery,  and  with 
it,  persons !  Here  I  am,  however,  and  I  am  glad  to  say 
as  much,  safe  and  sound  in  life  and  limb. 

At  Genoa,  my  young  Bostonian  acquaintance  arose 
quite  early,  and  shaking  me  warmly  by  the  hand,  left 
the  Vatican.  Drs.  Townsend  and  B.  also  went  ashore, 
and  I  was  completely  alone,  so  far  as  acquaintances  were 
concerned.  We  finally  steamed  off  again,  and  had  fine 
weather.  I  would  have  enjoyed  myself,  but  for  an  old 
English  lady,  who  bothered  me  considerably,  asking  very 
silly  questions  concerning  the  city  of  Kentucky,  the  cap- 
ital of  the  District  of  Columbia,  and  other  such  foolish 
questions  ;  and  to  show  her  extreme  erudition  in  regard  to 
affaires  Americaines,  she  asked  me  if  the  President  wore 
pistols  and  bowie-knife  in  his  belt.  I  am  ashamed  to  say 
now,  I  responded  partially  in  the  affirmative.  A  visit  to 
this  country  will  scarcely  disburden  her  mind  of  such 
prejudices  as  she  possesses.  This  old  lady,  then,  was  my 
demon-angel  throughout  the  day,  and  when  night  closed 


1  ;'s  MARSEILLES, 


in.  and  the  angel  of  sleep  came  stealing  over  me  in  my 
narrow  couch,  I  bailed  his  resplendent  presence  with 
more  than  usual  pleasure. 

We  steamed  off  from  Genoa  at  hall-past  two  in  the 
afternoon,  and  as  usual,  had  fine  weather,  and  made  good 
time.  Throughout  the  nighl  the  weather  continued  line, 
and  this  (Thursday)  morning,  at  nine  o'clock,  we  descried 
the  beautiful  citj  of  Marseilles,  nestling  on  the  rocky 
coast  far  away  to  the  north-west.  We  were  then  in  lull 
view  of  the  rugged,  picturesque  shore  on  the  cast,  and 
the  varying  panorama  of  shifting  scenery  was  very  beau- 
tiful. In  an  hour  we  came  safely  into  port,  and  down 
rattled  our  heavy  anchor.  At  last  I  had  reached  French 
soil,  which  I  had  left  more  than  four  long  months  ago; 
and  the  sight  of  nioustached  gens  d'o.rmes,  and  the 
piquancy  of  French  babble,  were  really  refreshing.  My 
name  was  first  on  the  steamer's  list,  called  out  to  go 
ashore,  and  1  went  as  quick  as  I  could.  I  met  with  a 
good  deal  of  trouble  at  the  Custom-House,  and  was  com- 
pelled to  pay  duty  on  an  old  trunk  of  curiosities,  the  joint 
property  of  my  friend  S.  and  myself,  which  I  had  taken 
care  of  from  .Jerusalem.  However,  1  finally  got  through 
the  Douane,  by  paying  a  ten-franc  piece.  I  was  somewhat 
bothered,  too,  at  the  maritime  police  office,  where  I  went 
to  obtain  my  passport.  When  he  got  to  my  business,  the 
officer  asked, "  Quellt  profession,  Monsieur !"  1  responded, 
quite  boldly  and  justly,  "  Medecin  /"  The  man  looked  up 
and  gazed  rather  quizzically  at  me.  He  first  regarded 
my  sun-burnt,  swarthy  visage,  then  my  unprofessional 
attire — slouched  hat,  thread-bare  coat,  and  brogan  boots. 


A     TROUBLESOME    OFFICIAL.  459 


"Ah!  medecin!"  he  responded,  slowly,  laying  down  his 
pen,  with  the  self-satisfied  air  that  he  had  caught  me 
nicely,  and  in  catching  me  had  caught  another  Orsini. 

I  merely  responded,  "  C'est  ca,  monsieur,  vous  avez 
raison." 

He  could  not  believe  that  I  was  a  doctor ;  everything 
went  against  me. 

"  Vous  etes  trop  jeune,  monsieur,  et — et — " 

"  Mon  chapeau  —  pas  com  me  il  faut  —  n'est-ce  pas, 
monsieur!"  I  put  in,  smiling  at  the  officer's  doubts  and 
indecision. 

"  Oui,  monsieur,  vous  avez  raison  maintenant  /" 

Well,  I  told  him  to  satisfy  himself  of  my  attainments 
in  physic,  and  made  use  of  the  names  of  several  medical 
men  of  distinction  in  Paris.  But  no,  he  was  not  satisfied 
at  this ;  so  he  set  to  work  and  gave  me  a  real  "  rubbing 
up,"  as  we  used  to  say  at  school — a  genuine  examination ; 
at  the  end  of  which  he  muttered — 

"  C'est  bien — voila  votre  passeport." 

"  Merci  bien,  monsieur,"  I  replied,  and  walked  out. 

When  I  reached  the  omnibus  again,  which  was  to 
present  during  my  examination — she  being  in  quest  of  her 
carry  me  to  the  hotel,  a  young  English  lady,  (?)  who  was 
passport  and  those  of  her  lady  friends — commenced  the 
conversation  immediately  on  poor  me.  They  did  not 
know  my  nationality. 

"  Well,  Rosa,"  said  she  who  had  listened  to  my  exami- 
nation, "  what  do  you  think  ?" 

"  I  can't  say,"  replied  Rosa,  who  was  a  handsome  and 
well-dressed  girl.     "  What  is  it,  Bella  ?" 


M    OTTERING     REM  A  RES. 


"Why,  that  fellow  there  is  a  doc — no.  he  will  under- 
stand   I   am   talking   about    him — that    fellow  is  a  j>Jiy- 

'ii .'" 

"What!"  exclaimed  Rosa,  in  astonishment;  "that 
wild-looking,  half-civilized  creature  a  physician?"  I  sat 
still,  and  did  not  betray  any  knowledge  of  her  -words — 
"•  Why.  he  doos  not  look  as  if  he  is  worth  a  bob — why  he 
is  no  physician.   Bella." 

This  conversation  was  carried  on  in  a  loud  whisper. 
A;  this  last  remark  I  opened  a  side  pocket  to  my  dilapi- 
dated vest  and  took  therefrom  a  valuable  watch,  the  gift 
of  a  dear  relative.  They  stalled  back,  and  some  wonder 
was  exhibited  in  their  countenances. 

"Wonder  where  he  got  that?"  said  Rosa.  "Not 
honestly  by  it,  I  am  sure." 

1  -;iid  nothing. 

"Not  so  loud,  Rosa,"  said  Bella;  "he  looks  like  an 
American,  and  may  speak." 

••N<>.  no,  Bella;  he  is  some  scapegrace  Italian — that's 
bid  enough.     Don't  make  him  any  lower  by  calling  him 
an  American — though  he  does  resemble  pictures  I  have 
;  of  those  ied  creatures  they  call  Indians." 

The  conversation,  so  ilattering  to  my  nationality  and 
to  my  personnel,  here  ended,  and  in  a  few  moments  the 
omnibus  drew  up  to  the  door  of  the  hotel.  My  lady 
friends  descended.  Although  thinking  of  going  some- 
where  else,  I  also  descended,  and  ordered  a  room,  deter- 
mined to  see  those  same  girls  under  circumstances  more 
favorable  t<>  myself.  I  went  to  my  room  and  commenced 
preparing  for  dijt  dm  r  <)  la  fourchette,  which  the  garcon 


A    METAMORPHOSIS.  461 


said  would  be  ready  in  "  une  heure  et  dernier  I  removed 
some  of  my  ragged  beard,  combed  my  elf  locks  into  pre- 
cision, and  enjoyed  a  fine  scented  bath,  which  thoroughly 
removed  the  dust  of  travel.  My  new  dress-coat,  pants, 
and  vest  (Richards  best)  were  produced;  snowy  linen 
covered  my  chest  and  encircled  my  swarthy  neck ;  a  pair 
of  patent-leather  pumps,  and  a  pair  of  delicate,  lavender 
colored  kids,  finished  my  costume.  The  metamorphosis 
was  considerable,  and  I  feared  that  my  quondam  friends 
would  not  recognise  me  at  all.  Just  then  the  bell 
sounded.  I  waited  a  moment,  and  the  flutter  of  silks 
rustled  by  my  door,  which  was  shut. 

"  Come,  Bella,"  said  Rosa,  "  and  we'll  see  our  Indian- 
Italian  friend,  unless  he  is  too  stingy  or  too  poor,  make 
his  debut  directly." 

A  silvery  laugh  followed  this — a  laugh  so  musical  that 
I  forgave  the  fair  satirist.  I  lingered  in  my  room  until  I 
knew  that  the  major  portion  of  the  guests  had  gone  to 
the  salle  a  manger;  then  I  sauntered  slowly  down,  and 
entered  the  dining-hall.  A  suppressed — "Why,  look, 
Bella — did  you  ever!  Tis  not  he  after  all,  but  much 
resembles  him  !" — led  me  in  the  right  direction.  I  took 
the  seat  just  opposite  them. 

"'Tis  he,"  they  both  exclaimed  in  a  whisper;  "the 
young  physician  is" 

"  No  Indian,  after  all,  ladies — simply  an  American 
citizen,  who  is  very  thankful  for  your  whole-souled 
compliments  !  Garcon  id,  sil  vous  plait."  A  smothered 
shriek,  a  flutter  of  silks,  and  a  hasty  stampede,  were  the 
effects  of  my   remarks,   spoken   in   very  plain   English. 


162  A      RUDE      IK  I    \«    II  M  A  \. 

The  garcoi)  and  the  maitre  <l   hotel   rushed  up — "Qu'est- 
q  le  c'est,  qui  6tea  vous?"     "Oh!  rien,  mes  amis,"  I 
replied  :  u  une  bouteille  de  <  Ihablis  blanc!" 

\R  II.  well,  I  expert  to  leave  for  Paris  in  the  morning, 
aa  I  cannot  start  this  afternoon.  This  Is  quite  a  pleasant 
city,  however,  and  pleasure  and  business  will  keep  my 
time  employed  pretty  well.  I  am  now  going  to  the 
Prefecture  de  Police,  to  have  my  passport  \is<Vd  for 
Paris ;   it  is  now  (luce  o'clock  p.  m. 

Sunday,  April  10th,  1859. 

********* 

At  home — 24  Rue  Bonaparte  a  Paris. 
Tuesday,  April  12th,  1859. 
Since  writing  my  last  day's  report  in  my  Journal,  in 
that  hot  room  in  the  Hotel  d'Alexandrie,  many  events 
have  transpired,  and.  thank  Heaven,  many  miles  now  lie 
between  me  and  the  detestable  seaport  of  Marseilles.  It 
was  far  from  being  "  pleasant,"  as  I  anticipated.  Well, 
let  me  briefly  recapitulate. 

On  last  Saturday  afternoon,  after  1  had  written  up  my 
last  day's  Journal,  as  seen  above,  T  went  with  the  garcon 
of  the  hotel,  a  foolish,  good-for-nothing  sort  of  a  fellow. 
to  the  Police  office,  to  have  a  visSe  for  Paris  attached  to 
my  passport.  The  officer  was  quite  rude,  strange  to  say, 
being  a  Frenchman,  and  a  French  official  at  that,  hut  I 
my  passport,  and  it  was  all  I  went  for.  1  returned 
te  hotel,  and  having  partaken  of  a  tolerable  dinner, 
and  a  bottle  of  eapital  wine,  I  sallied  out  and  had  a  most 
deliciout   touch  of  tooth-ache.     That  having  had  its  play, 


JOURNEY    TO    PARIS.  463 


I  proceeded  very  leisurely,  to  take  a  long  and  very  plea- 
sant walk.  I  went  the  entire  length  of  the  street  Chemin 
de  Rome,  and  had  a  good  view  of  the  city  of  Marseilles, 
a  beautiful,  and  yet  an  unpleasant  and  uninviting  city. 
Finally,  I  once  more  reached  the  hotel,  and  having  drank 
a  bottle  of  Lemonade  gazeuse,  I  retired  to  my  small 
chamber,  and  was  soon  asleep.  I  slumbered  soundly 
until  six  o'clock  next  morning,  at  which  time  I  arose  and 
dressed.  The  garcon  came  for  my  trunk,  and  having 
settled  at  the  hotel  for  everything,  I  went  on  my  way 
with  a  light  heart  to  the  depot.  That  spot  I  reached  and 
had  a  fuss  with  the  aforementioned  foolish  garcon,  who 
endeavored  to  cheat  me  by  demanding  as  much  to  bring- 
up  my  baggage,  as  that  for  which  I  could  have  gotten  a 
carriage  for  myself  and  baggage.  He  did  not  succeed, 
however.  At  twenty-five  minutes  to  eight,  the  train 
moved  slowly  off,  and  I  knew  I  was  at  least  in  what 
might  be  safely  termed,  a  speaking  distance  of  Paris  and 
its  beau  monde.  I  must  not  omit  to  state  how  much 
trouble  that  same  said  old  trunk  gave  me.  It  split  wide 
open  once  or  twice,  and  I  had  to  pay  to  have  it  fixed  up. 
Finally,  I  left  it  in  a  good  condition,  hoping  to  see  it  next 
in  Paris. 

Oh  !  what  a  long,  miserable  ride  it  was  to  Paris  !  All 
day  long  we  thundered  on,  stopping  only  for  ^/^-re- 
freshments. How  much,  and  how  forcibly,  these  restau- 
rants reminded  me  of  J.  and  Frank  G — !  Late  at  night 
we  reached  Lyons.  Here  I  took  supper.  After  a  delay 
of  half  an  hour,  the  cry  was  heard  again,  "  Au  voiture, 
messieurs !"     We  sprang  aboard  and  once  more  started 


I'1  I  V  i;  K  I  Y  A  L      AT      PA  R  1  S. 


OD    our    way.       It    was    now    pitchy    dark,  and    our    train 

dashed  along  Like  a  night-hawk  through  the  gloom.  The 
next  morning  1  awoke,  and  found  myself  still  in  the  cars. 
l>ut  we  were  gradually  nearing  Paris,  and  my  heart  grew 
1.  as  1  thoughl  o\'  the  friends  1  had  there  l<Tt  behind 
me.  Indue  time  we  passed  Fontainebleau.  Howrecol- 
lections  Sashed  over  me.  as  I  remembered  the  day  Miss 

II.,  and  Mrs.  S.,  of  Boston,  S-t-r-t,  of  Troy,  and  .V n. 

<>f  Philadelphia,  and  myself,  had  such  a  plea-ant  time 
here,  at  the  old  chateau,  and  through  the  grand  Foret  de 
F<,,,i<iin>  hh  mi .'  I  had  scarcely  indulged  in  a  remembrance 
of  that  pleasure,  now  a  long  time  ago,  when  we  were  off 
again. 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  we  reached  Paris  at  mid- 
day exactly.  And  how  strangely  I  felt,  although  more  than 
familiar  to  the  sight,  when  I  saw  the  tall  spires  of  St. 
Chlotilde,  the  noble  dome  of  the  Invalides,  and  the  large 
towers  of  the  Cathedrale  de  Notre  Dame!  It  actually 
seemed  strange  to  hear  the  real  Parisian  "  Bon  jour,  Mon- 
sieur;" and  the  cries  of  the  venders  of  licorice-water  were 
something  novel,  although,  four  months  before,  I  could 
tell  the  different  key-notes  of  every  old  fellow  who  dealt 
in  that  beverage  on  the  Champs  Elysees.  I  had  very 
much  difficulty  in  concealing  my  knife  and  pistol  (Holy 
Land  companions)  when  I  arrived  at  the  depot,  but  finally 
succeeded  in  -towing  them  away  in  my  bosom.  For  once, 
my  usually  unlucky  baggage  was  fortunate;  it  wasnotover- 
hauled  nor  examined.  I  was  soon  in  a  carriage,  bound 
to  m\  old  student-home,  No.  24  Rue  Bonaparte,  Quartier 
Latin  ;   and  not   many  minutes  elapsed   before  I  was  set 


GOOD     NEWS.  4<)i 


down  at  the  large  court-door.  They  were  surprised,  yet 
glad,  to  see  "  Monsieur  le  Docteur"  once  more ;  and  the 
pretty  little  daughter  of  the  Concierge  said  that  she  was 
afraid  "  que  monsieur  est  mort."  Fortunately,  my  old 
acquaintanceship  was  the  means  of  getting  me  a  room ; 
but  I  could  not  procure  my  old  chamber,  "  numero  dix- 
sept"  in  which  I  stayed  formerly,  and  in  which  all  of  my 
acquaintances  met  with  me  in  a  social  gathering,  before 
our  party  left  Paris,  last  December.  How  singular  every- 
thing appeared  to  me  in  my  old  boarding-house,  and  how 
vividly  memory  lighted  up  the  events  of  the  past! 

I  dressed  up,  after  a  comfortable  bath  and  a  quiet, 
ruminating  smoke,  and  took  my  way  to  a  well-known 
house — No.  3  Rue  de  Dauphin,  en  face  le  Jardin  des  Tuil- 
eries — and  was  delighted  to  learn  that  Frank  G.,  my  old 
friend,  had  been  in  town  some  time,  and  that  he  and  his 
mother  were  still  residing  at  No.  3.  I  was  much  rejoiced, 
as  I  had  a  lot  of  things  to  talk  about  with  Frank.  I  left 
a  card  for  him,  as  he  had  sorti;  and  then  continued  up 
the  Rue  Rivoli,  and  thence  up  Rue  de  la  Paix  to  No.  5, 
Monroe's,  my  banker's.  I  found  a  whole  stock  of  letters 
awaiting  my  arrival ;  among  others,  several  from  a  cer- 
tain— the  reader  knows  who — and  one  containing  a  draft. 
All  were  welcome  (particularly  the  latter).  I  then  once 
more  took  a  grand  stroll  over  the  city,  up  the  Avenue  des 
Champs  Elysees,  Rue  Rivoli,  the  Boulevards,  &c.  When 
once  started,  it  scarcely  seemed  I  had  been  gone  a  week. 

I  returned,  and  took  dinner  at  my  old  boiciUon-plnce, 
back  of  the  Palais  Royal,  where  ive  students  were  wont 
to  congregate  in  halcyon  times — dead  and   gone!     The 

30 


OLD    FRIENDS. 


place   looked  natural  and  cheerful  as  ever,  despite  the 

absence  of  my  friends,  and  the  biftek  aux  pommes  was  la 

u   chose,  exactement.     1   boughl   some  cigarettes  from 

our  same  little  magasin  </<   Tabac,  and  commenced  another 

a  stroll.  It  Beemed  I  could  never  tire  of  walking 
about  among  my  old  haunts;  hut  wishing  to  sec  Frank 
(i..  1  returned  over  the  river  to  my  room  about  eight 
o'clock,  and  soon  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  his  familiar 
knock.  On  our  meeting  1  will  not  dwell;  it  was  the 
ig  of  two  sworn  friends — of  two  friends  who  had 
traversed  Germany,  Franco,  and  Italy,  and  climbed 
.Mount  Cenis,  Vesuvius,  and  the  heights  of  Heidelberg 
Schloss  together — and  who  had  been  separated  Tor  many 
a  Ion-  weary  day. 

Frank  told  me  that  after  we  parted  in  Naples — as 
shown  in  the  first  page  of  this  Journal — he  went  to 
Palermo  in  Sicily,  and  thence  returned  to  Rome,  ami  was 
there  during  the  gay  season  of  the  Carnival.  In  Palermo 
he  mot  my  old  friend  S-t-r-t  of  Vanderbilt  and  Paris 
memory,   and  in   Pome,    my  good  friend  and    counsellor 

companion,  A n  of  Philadelphia.     Frank  stayed  with 

mt'  that  night,  and  the  next  morning  I  called  on    Mrs.  G. 

and  Mrs.  W n.      They  were  both  very  glad  to  see  me. 

I   enjoyed   a   long    conversation  with   them;    and  things 

ni  to  look  home-like  and   Paris-like  again.     From  No. 

3  Rue  de    Dauphin,  I  called   on   my  old   friend  in  Hue  de 

la    Michodiere — the   pumpkin    pie  specialite  ai/ac  Ameri- 

\ns- woman — and  Frank  and  self  had  a  pleasant  time. 
irly  all  of  my  confreres  of  the  hospital  have  gone 
if.     My  friend  J —  passed   through,  and  sailed  some 


FAREWELL.  467 


time  ago  from  Galway  in  Ireland ;  there  are  only  three 
students  remaining  in  Paris  with  whom  I  have  any 
acquaintance. 

With  the  end  of  this  day's  Journal,  I  must  bid  the 
reader  an  affectionate  farewell.  If  he  has  been  pleased 
at  wandering  with  me  over  Continental  and  Holy  Lands, 
and  can  say  heartily  that  he  has  passed  an  interesting 
hour  in  reading  the  roughly-sketched  events  incident  to 
the  life  of  a  traveller,  of  course  I  am  satisfied.  Although 
he  set  out  with  me  in  my  pilgrimage  from  Naples,  yet  I 
have  brought  him  with  me  to  Paris.  When  I  shall 
return  to  the  United  States,  I  know  not.  For  the  pre- 
sent my  home  is  here — and  once  again  I  say  good-bye 
and  God  speed ! 


INDEX. 


Absalom's  Pillar,  205. 
Abu-Ghaush,  178. 
Accident,  168. 
Aceldama,  191. 
Adventure,  187. 

in  Venice,  200. 
Africa  in  sight,  432. 
Ain-el-Haud,  272. 
Akra,  hill  of,  344. 
wall  of,  361. 
Aksa,  el,  mosque  of,  404. 
Alexander  spares  Jerusalem,  46. 
Alexandria  in  sight,  118. 
American  missionary,  161. 

consul  in  Jaffa,  146. 

Alexandria,  434. 
Jerusalem,  246. 
Malta,  116. 
Analysis  of  Dead  Sea  water,  293. 
An  American,  109. 
Ancient  topography,  337. 
gates,  365. 
walls,  359. 
Ansairiyeh,  67. 
Anticipation,  104. 
Apollonius  pillages  Jerusalem,  47. 
Apostle  James,  tomb  of,  206. 

place  of  martyrdom 
250. 
Apparition,  chapel  of,  23  I. 
Appearance  of  Malta,  94. 


of, 


Approaching  departure,  316. 
Arabian  saddles,  31. 
Arab  politeness,  55. 

independence,  58. 
Arms  in  Syria,  31. 

moral  effect  of,  32. 
Arrival  in  Cairo,  436. 
Paris,  464. 
Ascension,  Church,  and  place  of,  210. 
At  Alexandria,  431. 
Author's  story,  152. 
Autumn  in  Syria,  26. 

Baggage,  dangers  to,  132. 
Bakhshish,  17. 
Balls  in  Beirut,  427. 
Banks  of  Jordan,  285. 
Barclay,  Dr.,  183. 
Bargaining  for  curiosities,  252. 
Bathing  in  Jordan,  289. 
Battle  among  boatmen,  44. 
Bazaars  in  Jaffa,  147. 

Cairo,  439. 

Jerusalem,  194. 
Beirut,  426. 
Belief  in  ghosts,  114. 

holy  localities,  308. 
Bethany,  211. 
Bethlehem,  305-310. 
Bethlehem  women,  310. 
Be/.etha,  339. 

(469) 


170 


i  \  i  >  i  \ 


B 

Biblioal  events  in  Jaffa,  1 »'.-_:. 
Birthplace  of  Samuel,  IT'.'. 
Bird  -  ej  e  i  iiw  of  Jerusalem,  I 
Birthplaoe  of  s.a\  iour,  ■" ' < > T . 
Blaok  tents,  801. 

bread,  -J"  l. 
Blattner'a  hotel,  1 18. 
Boatmen,  Bwarma  of,  in  port  of  Alex- 
andria, 181. 
rival,   112. 
Brook  Cherith,  27  I. 

Kidron,  358. 

Calabrian  coast,  80. 
Calvary,  2   ■ 
Camping-ground,  276. 
Canaan,  descendants  of,  38. 
Cairo,  arrival  at,   I  16 

Bight-seeing  in.  138 
Captives,  poisoning  of.  165. 
Capture  of  Jerusalem,  51. 
Casa  Nuova,  315. 
Chapel  of  Apparition,  234. 

Greek  ami  Latin,  239. 

Helena,  235. 
Cheapness  of  gold.  JIT. 
Cherith,  brook,  274. 
Christian-..  62. 
Church,  Greek,  I 

Ascension,  Jin. 

IL.ly  Sepulchre,  197-226. 

Nativity.  305. 
San  Giovanni,  1 1'. 

Si.   .lame-.   249. 

Sepulchre,  erection  of,  240. 
rebuilt,  2  12. 
destroyed    by   fire, 

241." 
discussion  as  to  va- 
lidity of, 
Citta  Vecchia.  95. 
Civil  policemen,  108. 
1  ihia,  155. 

Climate  of  the  east,  26. 
Clothing  for  Syria.  2T. 
Coenaculum,  4"o. 


('.•ins.  Turkish,  18 
fold  winds, 

Companies,  rival  boat,  1 12 
Conquest,  Roman,  is. 

Mohammedan,  49. 
Consul,  American,  in  Malta,  1  111. 

Alexandria,  I'M. 

Jaffa,  i  i<;. 

Jerusalem,  246. 
t  iontrasts  of  aea,  186. 
Convent  of  Mar  Elias,  804 
<  lonvente  of  Jerusalem,  I  Mi. 
Couriers,  mail.  L9   L60. 
Crash,  98. 

Crown  of  Thorns,  286. 
•  'rusades  and  crusaders,  60. 
Curiosities  in  Jerusalem,  252. 
Custom-house  in  Syria,  21. 
officials,  145. 

Damascus,  36. 

Dangers  to  baggage,  132. 

David,  reign  of,  41. 

tomb  of,  404. 

well  of,  309. 

and  Orpheus,  312. 
Day,  -weary,   1  M. 
Dead  Sea,  290. 
Decayed  tower,  167. 
Deniss  the  photographer,  2)s. 
Departure,  approaching    316. 

from  Jerusalem,  420. 
Descendants  of  Canaan,  38. 
Destruction  of  church  by  fire,  241. 
Different  paths,  147. 
Dilemma,  433. 
Dinner,  a  good,  244. 
Discussion  in  regard  to  sea-sickness,  119. 
as  to  validity  of  Church  of 
Sepulchre,  382. 
Dissatisfaction,  M'-\. 
Doctor  Barclay,  183. 
Dolorosa,  Via.   111. 
Donkey  riding,  487. 
Dragoman,  Ibrahim  Mordecai.  244. 
Dragomen,  22. 
Druses,  08. 


INDEX. 


471 


Effect,  moral,  of  arms,  32. 

El-Aksa,  404. 

Elisha,  fountain  of,  275. 

End  of  Israelitish  monarchy.  44. 

English  soldiers,  97. 

hotel,  143. 
En-Rogel,  217. 
Equipments  for  the  East,  88. 
Erection  of  Church  of  Sepulchre,  240. 
Esslinger's  story,  260. 
Evening  stroll,  89. 
Events,  biblical,  in  Jaffa,  162. 
Evil  Counsel,  hill  of,  338 
Exchange,  rates  of,  16. 

Family  hotel,  India,  434. 

Farewells,  77. 

Father  Germano,  174. 

Final  farewell  to  reader,  467. 

Fire,  holy,  description  of  ceremony,  386. 

Fire,  the  holy,  243. 

First  sight,  of  Jerusalem,  180. 

night  in  Jerusalem,  184. 

wall,  359. 
Flattering  remarks,  460. 
Fondness  for  titles,  57. 
Fountain  of  Virgin,  220. 
Elisha,  275. 
Fowls  in  Nile  valley,  435. 
Frenchman,  a  rude,  462. 
Friends,  old,  466. 

Gates,  ancient,  365. 
modern,  368. 
Gehenna,  355. 
Germano,  Padre,  174. 
Gethsemane,  visit  to,  209-320. 

photographs  of  party  in, 
321. 
Ghaush,  Abu,  178. 
Ghosts,  belief  in,  114. 
Ghost  story,  111. 
Goat-meat,  201. 
Gold,  cheapness  of,  247. 
Golden  Gate,  202. 
Golgotha,  238. 
Good  dinner,  244. 


Good  news,  465. 

Great  Valley,  72. 
Greek  Church.  •',:;. 
chapel.  2-;'.l. 
Grotto  of  Jeremiah,  413. 
Groves,  orange,  149. 
Guides,  Maltese,  24. 

importunities  of,  87. 

Hassan,  176. 
Hand.  Ain-el,  272. 
Health,  means  of  insuring,  34. 
Helena,  chapel  of,  235. 
Heliopolis,  439. 
Herod's  Palace,  360. 
Herr  Montag,  84. 
Herr  Montag's  story,  90. 
Hezekiah,  Pool  of,  246. 
Hill  of  Evil  Counsel,  338. 
Hinnom,  Valley  of,  355. 
Hippicus,  Tower  of,  358. 
History  of  Ramleh,  170. 
Jericho,  278. 
Jerusalem,  371. 
History,  Syrian,  37. 
Holy  Sepulchre,  church  of,  1 97,  226,  382. 
localities,  belief  in,  308. 
Fire,  243. 

full  description  of,  386. 
Home,  thoughts  of,  101. 
Hospice,  Prussian,  182. 
Hotel  by  Blattner,  143. 

du  Nil,  in  Cairo,  436. 

India  Family,  in  Alexandria,  434. 

Malta  Cross,  82. 

Mediterranean,  in  Jerusalem,  224. 
House,  Custom,  in  Syria,  21. 
officials,  145. 
House  of  Simon  the  Tanner,  150. 

Ibrahim  Mordecai,  244. 

Pasha,  53. 
Importunities  of  guides,  87. 
Independence  of  Arab,  58. 
India  Family  Hotel,  434. 
Inhabitants  of  Palestine,  54.. 
Inquisitive  lady,  457. 


172 


i  \  pi  \. 


Insuring  health,  means  of, 
ilea  ink.-  possession,  l" 
ish  monarch}  .  end  of,   1 I. 
Israel,  kingdom  of,  12. 

h  ars  >>t'. 

• 
landing  at,  1  W. 

it,  by  Napoleon,  163. 
■  .iii.  of  Apostle,  206. 
Jehoshaphat,  vallej  of,  204. 
Jeremiah,  Grotto  of,  1 12. 
Jericho,  ruins  of,  -77. 

history  of,  278. 
Jerusalem  Bpared  l>y  Alexander,   16. 
ancient  topography  of,  o;,'7. 

ared  bj  Saladin,  51. 
convents  of,  416. 
departure  from,  120. 
first  night  in,  184. 
first  sight  of,  180. 
history  of,  371. 
leave,  for  Jordan,  271. 
pillaged  by  Apollonius,   17. 
population  of,  370. 
return  to,  3  >1. 
.  61. 
their  ubiquity,  190. 
John,  Knights  of  St.,  196. 
Jordan,  73, 

bank^  of,  285. 
bathing  in, 
ride  in  valley  of,  282. 
trip  to,  270. 
valley  of,  270. 
Journal  commenced,  76. 
continued,  120. 
Journey  to  Paris 
Judas,  tree  i  t.  303. 

•.   Hi'. 
303. 
Jukli 

_  i7. 
K<-!t.  Wady-el,  278. 
Kidron,  brook, 

_  David  and  Orpheus,  312. 


Kingdom  of  Israel,  42. 
Kings,  Tombs  of,  108. 
Kirjath  jearim,  177. 
Knights  of  St.  John,  196. 

where  bnrie'l.   I  16 

Laoonia,  on  board,  1 1 1. 
Lad] .  inquisitive,  157. 
Landing  at  Jaffa,  I  1". 

Language,  learning  the,  29. 

Last  \  iaits,  819. 

Latin  Chapel. 

Lazarus,  tomb  of,  216. 

Leave  Cairn.  ■111. 

Alexandria,  137. 

Messina,  81. 

Ramleh,  122. 
Lebanon,  283    126. 
Leghorn,  memories  of,  45G. 

I ntes,  74. 

Life,  race  for,  222. 

Litany.  7  I. 

Localities,  belief  in  holy,  308. 

Locomotion,  means  of,  30. 

Macedonian,  133. 

Mail  service  in  Syria,  19. 

couriers,  19. 
Malta.  85-44G. 

appearance  of,  94. 
Malta  Cross  Hotel,  82. 
Maltese  guides,  24. 

manufactures,  100. 
Manufactory  of  ornaments,  259. 
Mar  Elias,  304,  425. 
Maronites,  64. 
Mar  Saba,  297. 
Marseilles,  458. 

Martyrdom  of  St.  James,  site  of,  250. 
Mary,  Virgin,  tomb  of,  208, 
Masada,  299. 

i  e  al  Jaffa,  I  18. 

Meal,  a  parting.  45  1. 
Me  in    ol    locomotion,  30. 

insuring  health,  34. 
Meat.  goat.  201. 
Medicines  in  Syria,  33. 


INDEX. 


473 


Mediterranean,  on,  429. 
Meet  an  American,  151. 
Memories  of  Leghorn,  456. 
Messageries  Imperiales,  steamers,  19. 
Messina,  81. 

arrive  at,  again,  44'J. 
Metamorphosis,  461. 
Missing  wine,  176. 
Missionary,  161. 
Modern  walls,  366. 
gates,  368. 
Mohammedan  conquest,  49. 
Mohammedans,  66. 
Monarchy,  Israelitish,  end  of,  44. 
Monkary,  151. 
Montug,  Herr  Johannes,  84. 
Montag.  parting  with,  421. 
Montag's  story,  90. 

second  story,  322. 
Moral  eifect  of  arms,  32. 
Moses,  Tomb  of,  296. 
Mosque  of  Omar,  343. 

El-Aksa,  404. 
Mount  Carmel,  425. 

Moriah,  342. 

Olives,  view  from,  253 

Olivet,  189,  349. 

Temptation,  384. 

Zion,  345. 
Musa,  Neby,  296. 

Naples,  off,  452. 

ride  in,  453. 
Nar,  Wady  en,  353. 
Nativity,  Church  of,  305. 
Neby  Musa,  296. 
News,  good,  465. 
Nile,  crossing,  435. 

valley  of,  game  on,  435. 
Nil,  Hotel  du,  436. 

Office,  Post,  in  Syria,  18. 

Officials,  custom-house,  145. 

Official,  troublesome,  459. 

Off  Naples,  452. 

'Okkal,  68. 

Old  friends,  466. 


Olives,  Mount  of,  189-341. 

view  from,  253. 
Omar,  Mosque  of,  343. 
On  board,  424. 

board  Laconia,  440. 

Mediterranean,  429. 
Ophel,  344. 

Orange  groves  of  Jaffa,  149. 
Oriental  pilot,  130. 

Orlandi,  hotel,  at  Civita  Vecchia,  455. 
Ornaments,  manufactory  of,  259. 
Orontes,  74. 
Orpheus,  comparison  with  David,  312. 

Palace,  Herod's,  360. 
Palestine  and  Syria,  70. 
Palestine,  sketch  of,  35. 
Paris,  journey  to,  463. 

arrival  at,  once  again,  464. 
Paris  life,  story  of,  124. 
Parting  meal,  454. 

with  Montag,  421. 
Pasha,  Ibrahim,  53. 
Passage,  stormy,  448. 
Passport  system  in  Mediterranean,  106. 
in  Syria,  19. 
Egypt,  431. 
Paths,  different,  447. 
Pharpar,  75. 

Photographer,  Deniss  the,  248. 
Photographs  in  Oethsemane,  321. 
Pillar  of  Absalom,  205. 
Pilot,  an  oriental,  130. 
Place,  birth,  of  Samuel,  179. 
of  wailing,  192. 
Ascension,  210. 
Saviour's  birth,  307. 
Plain  of  Sharon,  166. 
Plans,  317. 

our,  122. 
Poisoning  of  captives,  165. 
Policeman,  civil,  108. 
Politeness,  Arabic,  55. 
Pool  of  Hezekiah,  246. 

Siloam,  313. 
Population  of  Jerusalem,  370. 
Position,  terrible,  223. 


I  \  hi   \. 


.  Israelites  take,  10. 
P  *l  offi<  e  in  83  ria,  is. 

Pretty  Tillage,  169. 
Priest,  young,  1 50. 

.  Pomb  "f.  in;. 
Prussi  hi  Hospioe,  182. 

itania  mountain,  28  I. 
-    on  as  i"  validity  of  Holy  Sepu] 
ohre, 
Quirinal  Bteamer,  78. 

life,  222. 
after  ;i  hat,  99. 
leh,  history  of,  170. 
es  of  exchange,  16. 

224. 
ly  i"  Bail,  134, 
v  and  anticipations,  104. 
Rebuilt,  Church  of  Sepulchre,  242. 
Recollection  of  an  adventure  in  Venice 

200s 
Religions  in  Syria,  59. 

380. 
Remarks,  Battering,  160. 
Reminiscences,  1  19. 
n  of  David,  41. 
Return  to  Jerusalem,  301. 
Ride  in  the  valley  of  Jordan,  282. 

Naples,  153. 
Riding,  donkey,  137. 
Rival  boa!  companies,  I  II'. 

En-,  217. 
Roman  Conquest,  48. 

i'H.    !_':;. 

Rose-water,  Bprinkled  with,  250. 
Rude  Frenchman,  162. 
Ruins  .it  Jericho,  277. 

-.    Arabian,  31. 
Sahlimah,  Sheikh  for  Jordan,  271. 
Sail  for  Alexandria,  428. 
Saint  James,  Church  of,  249. 

place   of  martyrdo  . 
250. 

ib  ••!.  206. 


Sainl  John,  Knights  of,  196. 
Saladin,  61. 

Samuel's  birthplace,  17'.>. 
San  Giovanni,  Churoh  of,  1  it;. 
Saunter,  102, 
Saviour's  birthplace,  807. 
Schism  in  Greek  Churoh,  62. 
S(  1.  Dead,  290. 
okness,  7'.'. 

discussion  :iv  regards,  119. 

(•"UlraMs,    L86. 

md  storj  by  Montag,  822. 
wall,  361. 
Sects,  religious,  380. 
Selim  1..  52. 

Sepulchre,  Church  of,  l'.»7-226. 
Sharon.  Plain  of,  71,  166. 

rose  of,  423. 
Ship-surgeon,  123. 
Shoes,  29. 
Siege  of  Tyre,   15. 
Sight-seeing  in  Cairo.  438. 
Malta,  446. 
Siloam,  Pool  of,  218. 
Silwan,  village  of,  218. 
Simon  the  Tanner,  house  of,  150. 
Sketch  of  Palestine,  35. 
Soldiers,  English,  97. 
Solomon's  Pools,  313. 
Stocks  of  Christ,  SM. 
Si. me  of  Judgment,  203. 

Unction.  231. 
Stormy  passage,  448. 
Story  of  Paris  life,  124. 
by  author,  152. 
by  Esslinger,  2(30. 
.  111. 
Stromboli  by  night,  451. 
Suitable  clothing  for  Syria,  27. 
Swarms  of  wild  fowl,  435. 
Syrian  autumn,  26. 
history,  .'I7. 
mail-carriers,  lfJO. 
mail  service,  19. 
Syria,  religions  of,  59. 

and  Palestine,  70. 
System,  passport,  106. 


INDEX. 


475 


Tamerlane,  ">2. 

Tanner,  Simon,  house  of,  150. 

Temple,  393. 

Temptation,  Mount  of,  284. 

Tents,  black,  301. 

Terrible  position,  223. 

Third  wall,  363. 

Thorns,  crown  of,  236. 

Thoughts  of  home,  101. 

Titles,  fondness  for,  57. 

Tomb  of  Absalom,  205. 

Apostle  James,  206. 

David,  404. 

Helena,  412. 

Jehoshaphat,  208. 

Judges,  412. 

Kings,  408. 

Lazarus,  216. 

Moses,  296. 

Prophets,  407. 

Virgin  Mary,  208. 

Zecharias,  207. 
Toothache,  251. 
Topography,  ancient,  337. 
Tower,  decayed,  167. 
Hippicus,  358. 
To  the  reader,  farewell,  467. 
Trader,  a  keen,  257. 
Tragedy,  311. 
Tree  of  Judas,  303. 
Trial  of  speed,  221. 
Trip  to  Jordan,  270. 
Troublesome  official,  459. 
Turkish  coin,  13. 
Turgoman,  22. 
Tyre,  siege  of,  45. 
Tyropseon,  352. 

Unction,  Stone  of,  231. 

Valley,  great,  72. 

of  Hinnom,  355. 
Jehoshaphat,  204. 


Valley  of  Jordan,  270-282. 

Nile,  game  in,  435. 
Tyropseon    352. 
Validity  of  Church  >f  Sepulchre,  382. 
Vecchia,  Citta,  95. 

Civita,  455. 
Venice,  an  adventure  in,  200. 
Via  Dolorosa,  414. 
View  from  Mount  of  Olives,  253. 
Village,  a  pretty,  169. 
Virgin  Mary.  Tomb  of,  208. 

Fountain  of,  220. 
Virginian,  a,  121. 
Visits,  last,  319. 

to  Gethsemane,  320. 

Wady-el-Kelt,  273. 

Wady-en-Nar,  353. 

Wailing,  Place  of,  192. 

Wall,  first  or  ancient,  or  of  Zion,  359. 

modern,  366. 

second,  or  of  Akra,  361. 

third,  or  of  Bezetha,  363. 
Wars  of  Israel,  43. 
Water,  rose-,  sprinkled  with,  250. 
Weapons,  31. 
"Weary  day,  440. 
Well  of  David,  309. 
We  reach  the  gate,  224. 
Wild  fowl  in  Nile  valley,  435. 
William    Winthrop,    U.    S.    Consul    in 

Malta,  116. 
Winds,  cold,  83. 
Wine  missing,  176. 
Within  the  walls,  181. 
Women  of  Bethlehem,  310. 

Xystus,  366. 

Young  Priest,  450. 

Zecharias,  Tomb  of,  207. 
Zion,  Mount,  345. 


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